The Fog
by kittsbud
Summary: What if 'The Fog' visited Smallville instead of Antonio Bay? Can Clark and Co overcome the ghosts of long dead souls hell bent on revenge?
1. Default Chapter

'The Fog'

Clark padded across the dusty attic floor with a small plastic crate in his hand. It was getting late, and he and Jonathan had been working hard to tidy parts of the farm all day. The attic had been their last stop, and had proved to be the biggest job.

Piles of papers, a trunk filled with Grandpa Kent's effects, and a bunch of Clark's old toy's still needed tidying in one corner, but for the most part they were almost done. Separating family memorabilia and treasures from plain junk was hard when you tended to get sentimentally attached to said junk. Jonathan had been forced to pry one particular teddy bear from Clark's grasp, only to give in and hand it back moments later with a wry smile.

"Do you really need that, son?" The expression of mirth on the farmer's face said he already knew Clark's answer. The little brown bear had been one of the teen's first toys and there had always been a part of him that thought it was special.

"Dad…" Clark's cheeky grin almost illuminated the attic without the aid of the nearby light bulb that hung from the wooden beamed ceiling.

Jonathan nodded knowingly and headed for the steps with a box of junk to burn outside under his arm. "Don't forget to turn out the light when you bring the last of the rubbish down."

"I'll be down in a second. I just need to go through the last of those toys," Clark settled the plastic crate down beside several metal dump trucks he'd enjoyed as a toddler and began to reminisce. He knew full well he was supposed to be getting rid of unwanted clutter, but instead he found himself thinking back to his childhood.

Images of Jonathan and Martha encouraging him to play outside with the strange toy filled his head. Back then he'd had no clue what a dump truck even was. Clark smiled at the thought of how he'd lifted the toy over his head and tried to make it fly. _I could have probably lifted the real thing over my head back then even! _

Above him, the cobweb covered light began to flicker and Clark frowned at it for spoiling his trip back in time. He wasn't afraid of the dark- in fact he didn't even need the light to see, but it was an annoyance. The teen looked up, half expecting the bulb to pop any second, but it didn't. Instead, the filament continued to dull and then brighten with alarming regularity.

"I guess the electric company is having yet _another_ outage." Clark sighed and put the toy trucks in his crate to take down before the light finally decided to give out. As he spoke to no one in particular, a harsh grating sound erupted from the chimney breast. It was the only brick structure in the house and wasn't normally given to making any kind of noise. Clark craned his head and kicked into x-ray mode, wondering if a bird had somehow fallen down inside the channel.

The inner part of the chimney was clear, but just before Clark returned to normal vision he spotted something else. On the far right had side of the chimney, hidden by the shadows from the roof beams, there was a loose brick. In fact, now that he thought about it, the harsh noise he'd heard moments ago had sounded like brick, grating on brick.

What was more intriguing was the fact that there was something behind the loose block. Clark set down his now full plastic crate and strode over to the offending aged slab. It protruded from the others quite harshly, and for a second the teen could have sworn it was shaking itself out of the wall.

He stepped back, a small pang of fear overwhelming his super senses, but then the brick appeared nothing more than a brick- motionless in its inset. Reaching out, Clark touched the rectangular slab and wanted to recoil at its cold, malevolent texture.

The light flickered again; almost pulsing in time with the teen's now racing heartbeat. "It's just a brick," He told himself, but the more he scrutinized it and the surrounding chimney, the more he knew there was something strange.

This side of the chimney wasn't red like the others; it had a dark, blackened coating to it that defied explanation. An abundance of horror movies came back to haunt him, and Clark was glad it was nowhere near Halloween. _I need to see what's behind here…_Like anyone whose curiosity was piqued; Clark couldn't control himself despite what the implications might mean.

Clark reached out again, and this time he saw his own fingertips trembling as he tugged at the brick. At first the block appeared stuck, but with one tug of super strength it gave way to the inevitable. As it came away from the chimney, the bulb hanging close by dulled for the last time and the filament burned through with an electric snap. The room was pitched into complete darkness, and somehow not even Clark could see anything.

"Whoa!" This time Clark made a dive for the attic entrance and didn't care how childish his actions seemed. He'd just reached the steps when Jonathan's head bobbed up through the opening.

"Need a flashlight, son?" Without waiting for a reply the farmer climbed the rest of the way into the attic, and couldn't resist grinning at his kid's apparently terrified expression.

Clark grinned back sheepishly, but then remembered the brick. "Dad, I think I found something in the chimney…" He pointed to the gloomy area where he'd discovered and then dropped the offending item.

"_In_ the chimney?" Jonathan raised a questioning brow, but directed his beam of light over to where Clark was now gesturing. About six feet up the brickwork he spotted the hole where Clark had removed the block. "Well I'll be…"

Reassured by his father's presence, Clark followed Jonathan back to where the brick now lay. In the beam from the flashlight it looked so innocent on the dust covered floor, but the burning question Clark couldn't answer was how had it gotten loose?

"So, what's in there, son?" Jonathan moved the light so that it illuminated the hole in the chimney breast. Even now the blackened scarring to its surface was still visible.

Clark shrugged but knew what he had to do. Nothing could hurt him, so it was childish not to find out what he'd discovered. Lifting an arm up, the teen reached his hand inside the gap and let his fingers search around. Something cold, so very cold greeted his senses, but he didn't recoil from it. From the texture, Clark guessed it was some kind of old leather binding before he even tugged it out, and he wasn't wrong.

Once the book was clear of the chimney, Clark blew a thick layer of dust from its cover and stared at it amazed. It was pocket sized, and although its pages had yellowed, it appeared perfectly preserved. How and why a book of this kind had been stored inside the chimney of the Kent family home was a mystery. He gulped, and carefully peeled back the leather cover to read the first page. The contents were all hand written in black ink, and perfectly scribed.

"It's the journal of Nathanial Kent! Dad, this is old!" His earlier spooky experience forgotten, Clark looked to his dad excitedly at having found part of their family history. "It's dated 1880," He noted, pinching another page and flicking it back. "The last entry is April 21st. I wonder why…" He read the first line out loud, "Midnight till One belongs to the Dead…"

Jonathan sighed and rubbed a hand over the discoloration to the chimney. It's harsh grainy surface reminding the farmer of a tale he'd been told long ago by his own father. "I think I know why, son, and it wasn't pretty." He tapped the brickwork with the edge of his light, "See this?"

Clark nodded, placing the journal in the breast pocket of his plaid shirt. "I was wondering about that."

"It's quite a tale." Jonathan settled his flashlight back on the exit, "C'mon, let's go outside, and I can tell you a real fireside horror story while we burn the rubbish."

"Horror story?" Clark shot his dad a pensive look and picked up his crate full of toys to give to the local charity store. He wasn't sure why, but if Jonathan hadn't mentioned the family yarn before, then he suspected it was for good reason.

When Clark stepped from the porch into the dull evening light he could see his dad already had a fire burning a good distance away from the house. Spirals of smoke ebbed up into the darkness from it as flames gently licked at the night sky. Martha was watching over the proceedings until Jonathan returned, and she looked up and smiled as the pair approached.

"I thought you two had decided to leave me out here alone." Martha took Jonathan's arm as he joined her, "What are you two looking so excited about?" She eventually asked, realizing something was going on between the father and son.

Clark retrieved the journal from his pocket and held it out in his palm. As he opened the front page the nearby fire seemed to grow in intensity. It was as if someone had tossed gasoline onto it, causing an instantaneous eruption of concentrated heat. Before anyone even had time to react and step back, the flames had died back to their normal height.

"We…um found this hidden in the chimney breast in the attic." Clark tried to explain what he'd discovered, but suddenly found he couldn't take his eyes from the now gently burning fire. "It's an old family journal, and dad says he recalls something about it."

Jonathan grabbed a chicken sandwich from a plate Martha had brought out for them, and took a seat on a nearby upturned crate. "I don't personally recall it, Clark. And it's not really about the journal, but it might explain why Nathanial Kent stopped writing it on the day he did…"

Even Martha was intrigued now. She'd never known Jonathan hold anything back before- well, except for the whole Jor-el deal, but that had been an exceptional circumstance. "Sweetheart?"

Clark pulled over two more plastic crates and he and Martha joined Jonathan sitting by the fire. As the farmer silently pitched a pile of old sacking onto the flames, sparks erupted, showering the surrounding area with golden embers. As they settled, Jonathan began his narrative.

"My father told me when I was a kid that many years ago in Smallville a terrible tragedy occurred…A tragedy so awful the town has chosen to forget it." He paused, looking at his watch as a sudden thought hit him. Then, he continued although his expression said that he was abruptly taken aback by what he saw, "It was midnight on the night of April 21st…"

Martha gaped, "Jonathan, that tomorrow's date!"

The farmer nodded, uncertain if he should continue and spook his family after what they'd found. It had to be a coincidence, and yet it all seemed far too convenient.

Clark sat forward on the edge of his seat, unable to contain his curiosity. "So what happened, dad?"

"They say there was a mist that night. An ungodly fog the likes of we've never seen here in Kansas. It had rolled in over the farmers' crops in the early evening and remained there, hovering like some malevolent mass."

Martha hunched closer to her husband and kept a tight grip no his arm. He was obviously enjoying telling the tale to Clark, but if she told the truth it was too creepy for her liking.

Jonathan continued, "From what your Grandpa told me there was some kind of town meeting that night. Father Malone, the local priest had allowed the farmers to use the church as a place to congregate, and it was then that it happened…" He stopped again momentarily to put more items on the fire, "No one knew how it got started, but somehow, hidden by the fog that had enshrouded the town there was a fire. Some say it started at the church, others say it was a brush fire that spread through several local farms. Only one thing was certain, the mist hid the smoke from neighboring homesteads until it was too late…when the fog finally receded from Smallville it left a trail of destruction in its wake…"

Martha was horrified, "People died? I've never heard about this before."

"On April 21st 1880, at midnight, the church burned to the ground with everyone in it…and no one saw the smoke because of the fog. There was never a fog here in Smallville the likes of that again, and for a time the local farmers were so superstitious they said if the fog returned, the souls of those who died that night would come with it."

Clark shuddered and abruptly wished he had not found the journal. "Is that why the diary stops at April 21st? Did Nathanial Kent die in the church fire?"

Jonathan shook his head. "No, son, he didn't, but from the scarring on our chimney I'd hazard a guess that the farm was somehow caught up in the brush fire. Maybe we'll never know what happened for sure…"

Martha trembled from a sudden icy chill despite the fire. She'd heard quite enough of Smallville's history for one night. It seemed the town had a curse on it throughout the passage of time, and not just since the meteor shower. "It's getting too cold out here," She stood from the crate and pulled her cardigan close around her, "You two should hurry up in."

Clark checked his watch and realized just how long they'd been working and talking. It was past 11pm and Lois wasn't home yet. She'd supposed to have been closing up at the Talon while Martha helped tidy the farm, but she should have been back by now.

"Do you think I should check on Lois?" He looked to his mom first, "I know the Mustang was being less than co operative this morning. She was fumbling under the hood for thirty minutes before it would start."

Martha agreed, "Okay, sweetheart, I'll have a snack ready for you both when you get in." She looked sternly to her husband, "And no more stories!"

Jonathan chuckled. He'd been trying to set the mood for a cosy last hour in front of the farmhouse fire with Martha, but all his spooky tale had done was give everyone the creeps. If he were honest, after recounting the story again he was feeling pretty spooked himself. "I promise." He assured, "Just as long as you agree to cook in the morning and not Lois."

Clark looked at his mom expectantly. Anything was worth not having to eat Lois' cooking.

Martha smiled, "It's a deal. Now go find Chloe's wayward cousin before she finds some more trouble to get into." Clark nodded as his mom tossed him the keys to the pickup. Where Lois was concerned there could be no use of super speed, so he'd have to find her the old fashioned way.

"Keep the cocoa warm." He grinned, and then hopped into the truck, cranked the engine, and sped off down the drive hurling flurries of dust up behind him.

Clark pulled the Kent truck up outside the Talon but didn't kill the ignition. Lois' car had already gone from its regular parking space, and so that meant she was most likely already back at the farm. He sighed and rolled his eyes at the thoughts of the army brat once again beating him to supper. The trucks clock said it was almost midnight. _What has she been up to till this time?_

The teen nudged the truck back into gear and headed down the almost empty Main Street at a snails pace. As he reached an intersection, the overhead lights changed and he began to brake. Before the truck had even come to a halt the lights changed again. This time they remained on amber and didn't move.

Clark scowled and lowered his window in order to pop his head out. The lights still stayed amber, and abruptly all three phone booths on the corner of the sidewalk began to ring incessantly. "What the?" He glanced around to see if any kids were playing a prank, but even with his x-ray vision he couldn't spot anyone.

Eventually, he decided to risk Sheriff Adams wrath and ran the light. It was either that or do a u-turn back towards the Talon. As he approached the edge of town he was glad of his minor little infraction of the law.

Lois' red Mustang was by the roadside, and the normally headstrong Lois was kicking at its tires as if the poor thing was about to assault her.

Clark pulled over with a mischievous grin on his face. "Need a ride?"

Lois scowled but conceded that she indeed did need a lift home. Grabbing her purse from the Ford she hopped into the truck and slammed the door closed. "Let me just tell you I don't normally hitchhike," She joked, "You're not one of those weirdoes that pick girls up are you?"

"Well, yes I am…" Clark couldn't stifle a laugh now. He and Lois had been getting along better lately, especially since she'd opened up to him after the 'Lucy Affair.'

Lois swatted him, "You are? Thank God! Here was I thinking you were just a boring farm boy!" There was a twinkle in her eye as she teased, but it was short lived.

As Clark slowed again at another intersection, the driver's side glass window shattered into a myriad of pieces, showering both of them with tiny sharp shards. It was as if someone had slammed something hard through the glass pane, and yet there was nothing inside the vehicle to show for it.

Clark quickly shielded Lois with his body in case another invisible attack came, but it didn't. Cautiously, the pair sat back up in their seats and looked around outside into the darkness. As they scrutinized the surrounding area the truck's lights faded and then brightened just like the attic bulb- even though the engine didn't miss a beat. Clark noted the same pulsating motion as before, but didn't mention anything to Lois.

"Okay, so maybe I don't want to ride with a weirdo…" Lois brushed flecks of safety glass from her jacket, "So what the heck was that, Smallville?"

Clark shrugged. "I don't know, but I think we should get out of here and figure it out at home." He let his boot gently slip from the brake pedal and applied a little gas, wondering what could come next.

Half a mile down the road they found out.

TBC...


	2. The Fog Part 2

As the Kent truck took the last turn out of town, Lois finally began to calm down. She looked from her intact window and noted they were now passing the slip road that lead to KROW radio station.

"I guess Chloe is getting all psyched up for her interview there tomorrow." She mused, glancing at the abundance of parked cars in the station's lot.

Clark nodded. Chloe had been the Wall of Weird queen for so long she'd managed to get a spot on the late night show at KROW. He had no doubt she would tell them a thing or two about her past adventures. _I just hope I'm not mentioned too much…people might put two and two together. _

Lois noticed his sudden serious expression. "What's wrong, Smallv…" Her voice waned as suddenly every parked car in the nearby lot's horn began to blare as if they had an incensed driver- not one car was even inhabited.

Clark slowed but didn't stop, and as he watched each car's headlights began to illuminate until KROW's car park looked more like a traffic jam. The horns continued to wail until the Kent truck had passed and then abruptly ceased.

Lois' eyes widened and she stiffened slightly in her seat, half expecting another invisible barrage through the window. "I'm not even gonna ask…" She muttered shaking her head in disbelief.

Clark frowned and picked up speed again. They were almost home now and he knew he'd feel better once he could talk to his parents. It was useless to try and explain anything to Lois because she had yet to see many of the strange things that could occur in Smallville, but Jonathan and Martha would surely sense the same foreboding he did. _This all started with the journal._ He let go of the steering wheel with his left hand and felt at his breast pocket where it rested. The diary still sat innocently against his chest.

"Hey, look at those guys!" Lois jerked her thumb towards a light in the distance. "Doesn't look like they've seen anything freaky lately."

Clark took his eyes from the road to see three high school jocks drinking beer and tossing empty cans in a field as if they were playing ball. He knew all three from his days with the Smallville Crows, and he knew the ring leader was definitely not supposed to be throwing such an impromptu party while his dad was out of town.

"It's Spooner," He sighed, "he knows better than to drink on the farm while his dad's away."

Lois watched in the mirror as the three drinking teen's faded into the distance. She didn't know any of them, and deduced she wasn't really missing anything from what she had seen. She'd never tell Clark to his face, but he was really the only thing any good about the Smallville Crows, and after his departure the team held little interest for her.

"After the night I've had I could do with a drink myself!" Lois shot Clark a teasing glance and then held up both hands as he looked back horrified, "Just kidding! I've sworn off that stuff just like I promised!"

Clark scowled but then smiled as he finally pulled onto Hickory Lane and the short drive up to the farm. After the weird night he'd had, Lois' humor seemed small fry.

Ben Steadman tossed a crushed can at his high school buddy Phil Gates and then took another sip from his beer. They'd all been drinking since they'd watched the Sharks win earlier on TV, and now they were ready for some fun.

"Hey, Spooner, man, bring out some more beer will you?" Steadman crushed the remains of the can in his hand and pitched it high at his football buddy.

Spooner tried to deflect the projectile, but his reflexes were just too slow after all the alcohol he'd consumed. The can hit home halfway up his chest and sprayed him with dregs of beer from the opening. "Ben, you'll ruin my damn letterman's jacket!" He slurred out the words and then grinned as he staggered back towards the main farmhouse in the distance. There was more beer to be had in the refrigerator, and no one to stop them consuming in. "Goin for the…beer…"

Both Phil and Ben grinned but didn't attempt to join Spooner in his quest to make it to the house. Neither teen had the balance to get very far, and why should they even make the effort when they had someone else to lug out the bootie?

"So, who you asking out Saturday?" Gates punched his friend a little too hard and almost tumbled over with the motion. He squinted, finding it hard to even keep focus let alone notice the slight mist that was now gathering at his feet.

Steadman didn't appear to have registered the question, "Dunno…" He seemed to teeter on the spot, but had managed to see the now thickening miasma that was engulfing them. "Say, it's getting misty…"

Gates shrugged and then frowned as he at last realized they were now enshrouded in what could only be described as a syrupy grey fog. "What the?" He whirled around, suddenly disorientated, "Which way is the house?"

Steadman didn't answer.

Where the young football player had stood only seconds earlier there was now nothing more than an unearthly dark shadow. It seemed to emanate from the fog itself, and at times even appeared to have human form.

Gates stumbled backwards and tripped in his haste to escape the thing that had somehow taken his friend's place. He fell hard on his back and felt the air knocked from his lungs by the jarring motion.

The shape in the fog watched through glowing red orbs that sat where eyes should have been. Then, as Gates began to panic it moved forward like a floating spectre. There didn't seem to be any legs- just a torso and arms formed by the flurrying action of the mist. At the end of one 'arm' it was easy to discern another shape- an old fashioned sickle that dripped blood from its unnaturally created blade.

Gates gulped. _It has to be the drink! What the hell has Spooner put in that stuff? Moonshine? _

The phantom ignored Gates' fear. It continued forward until its whirling mass looked down on the teen, and its fiery orbs bored into his soul.

Gates squirmed, trying to push his stupefied body up off the ground, but his boots slid in the dirt he and the others had churned earlier playing football. "No man, NO!"

One solitary scream filled the field as the sickle slashed down at its target, and then there was silence. A silence so final it was as if all of Smallville had been dealt some ungodly form of retribution. Then, as quickly as it had materialized, the fog leached back into the netherworld that had somehow given it life. It would not leave however, until the hour of the dead was over.

Spooner all but rolled into the family kitchen and instantly had the urge to wretch. He'd known earlier he'd drunk more beer than his stomach could handle, but now it was time to pay the price. He tugged off his letterman's jacket before it got yet more stains on it, and tossed it over the back of the nearest chair.

"I'm dead when my parents get home…" The teen grabbed the wastepaper bin from beside the sink and hovered over it, trying not to make himself sick. "Ugh…"

Spooner's head hung there for two minutes before he decided he wasn't going to lose his last meal after all. He gulped down hard and his brow furrowed as he spotted a wisp of smoke whirling around the bin. _Can't be smoke, but what then?_ He looked up and gaped as he realized a wave of mist was billowing under the screen door. Not only that, but someone was standing outside rapping on the side of the house. The knocking was so harsh it sounded like the person would smash a hole right through the wooden timbers.

"Hey, Phil, stop that will you?" Spooner wiped his mouth with the arm of his shirt and headed to the fridge, "I'm coming with the beer, Okay? No need to knock the house down…"

The teenager grabbed a six pack and then scurried back to the screen door. He placed a hand on the wood and drew back the screen just far enough to get a glimpse of what he was letting in, and it was most definitely not Phil Gates.

Spooner stepped back with his jaw hanging open in shock and surprise. He wanted to scream, to yell out for any kind of help that was available, but there was nothing that could stop what awaited outside.

He backed up, still gaping at the three forms that seemed to emanate from the now glowing mist that surrounded the house. They had no features, but appeared dressed in clothes that definitely didn't belong in this century.

"What…wha…do you want?" He stammered at the phantoms, but they didn't respond. How could they when they had no mouths?

Instead, the eddying miasma began to billow into the kitchen, and with it came the vengeful presence from Smallville's past.

Spooner could take no more. His legs buckled beneath him and he slumped into a ball at bottom of the refrigerator door. He placed his arms across his face and cowered, waiting for his fate without daring to look at his persecutors ghastly forms.

In the hallway, his mother's prized Grandfather clock began to chime in a new hour, and unbeknownst to Spooner the hellish fog began to dissipate. For tonight at least, the hour of the dead was over. It was 1am, 21st April…

_TBC..._


	3. The Fog Part 3

Clark arose in the morning feeling like the events of the previous evening had been nothing more than a nightmare. He'd told his parents about what had happened in town once he'd gotten a quiet moment alone with them, but Martha wasn't sure he hadn't simply gotten the jitters after Jonathan's spook story. In the end, Clark decided that if Lois could go to bed- his bed, and begin snoring within two minutes of hitting the pillow, then he should be able to deal with what they'd both seen in a similar manner.

"Finished your chores so soon, Son?" Jonathan smiled and grabbed a mug of coffee before taking a seat at the table.

Clark grinned, "Well you know how it is with Lois in the house…"

"I hope your not insinuating I have trouble getting up in the morning, Smallville?" Lois jogged through the screen door and shot Clark a suitably smug look. He'd obviously expected her to still be snoozing, but she'd been out early for a change.

"No, I um…" Clark stammered, and then decided he had better things to do than spar with their house guest. "Shouldn't you be in town getting your car towed?"

Lois grabbed a piece of buttered toast and took a bite before turning to smile broadly, "Just as soon as my chauffeur is ready…" She winked and Clark groaned.

Martha looked on apologetically, "Sorry, Sweetheart, but I volunteered you for the task. We need some feed picking up from the store and I thought you wouldn't mind giving Lois a ride into town."

"Can I gag her first?" Clark quipped jovially, and took a punch from Lois for his trouble. When her fist hit something hard in his pocket she frowned.

"Hiding something in there, farmboy?"

Clark nodded mysteriously and glanced at his parents. "As a matter of fact, I am. It's something I want Chloe to take a look at." He took Lois' arm and began to gently tug her from the Kent kitchen, "That is, if madam is ever going to be ready to go into town with her chauffeur…"

Lois tossed her half eaten toast into the waste bin and just managed to grab her jacket before being jostled out of the door. In the corner, Shelby whined sympathetically and cocked his head. Even he realized that Lois and Clark made quite a couple- they just hadn't figured it out yet.

As Clark headed out of Hickory Lane in the warm morning sun, Lois couldn't help but stare at the still smashed window pane to his left. No one had spoken much about it in the Kent household, but that didn't stop her from wondering.

She twisted a lock of hair around in thought as they drove towards town, "So, any theories on why half the cars in Smallville came alive last night?"

Clark shrugged but kept his eyes on the road, "I guess it must have been something electrical…" he tried to think positively. _There are no such things as ghosts!_

"Electrical my as…" Lois' brow furrowed and she thankfully didn't finish her sentence. Instead, she turned in her seat as they passed the Spooner residence. "Hey, Smallville, isn't that where those jocks were messing around last night?"

Clark stole a glance and immediately slowed the truck. There was something in the field that led up to the main house- something that looked suspiciously like a body, or at the very least someone lying unconscious. "I knew they were drinking too much!" he looked in his rear view mirror and once it was safe pulled the pick up off the road.

Without waiting for Lois' approval, Clark jumped from the cab and began to run over to the prone form in the grass. Lois as always followed, and soon wished she hadn't.

Phil Gates- or what was left of him, lay face down in the mud the teens had churned up playing ball. It wasn't easy for Clark to even recognize the jock, because the body had been horrifically burned until there was nothing left but a charred and mangled corpse.

"It's Phil…" Clark turned his head away, feeling nauseated.

Lois put a hand to her mouth but still managed to ask, "How can you tell?"

Clark winced. He'd made the usual mistake of using his gifts and then opening his mouth before thinking. His x-ray vision had easily penetrated the body's outer layers to reveal metal plates on the skeleton's left femur where Gates had suffered an injury that had took him out of the game.

"I just know, okay?" Clark couldn't help being a little terse. Only hours earlier they'd seen Gates and two others drinking. _If only I'd pulled over and talked some sense into them._

Lois realized she'd put her foot in it as usual and laid a hand gently on Clark's arm. "We should call the police. I'm no investigator, but we have to assume this is murder."

Clark nodded dolefully. "I left my cell phone in the truck. I'll go call them." He shot Lois a warning glance, "Don't touch anything that might be evidence."

Lois folded her arms and pulled an expression that said her stomach had been turned enough already. Satisfied, Clark began to jog back down for his phone with the idea that somehow this all had to do with the journal still lying in his pocket.

Lois kept her eyes from the blackened corpse and focused instead on the house that was only a stones throw away. _There were three guys out here last night. What if the other two are dead or injured in there? _

As usual, the General's daughter wasn't about to wait for help. She took one long glance at Clark talking on his cell phone and then began to run towards the house behind her. The thought never crossed her mind that dangers, or indeed the killer may wait within.

She reached the screen door without even breaking a sweat and paused. Something had been slammed into the wooden timbers of the house about chest high. Whatever the object was it had been sharp enough to make deep gouges in the lumber. Lois fingered the impression, imagining what the implement that caused it could do to soft human flesh. She gulped, but still pushed open the screen door with a wince.

The kitchen appeared empty at first glance, but then Lois felt something behind her. A presence that somehow made the hairs on the back of her neck began to stiffen. She wanted to whirl around but abruptly found her feet glued to the tiled floor.

Even though Lois didn't move, it didn't stop the thing behind her from falling. Lois screamed as a heavy weight suddenly dropped on her back, knocking her to the floor with its momentum.

She writhed, not realizing at first that her attacker was long dead. Eventually, she calmed somewhat and rolled over to look into the empty, charred eye sockets of Ben Steadman. He too had been burned to a crisp and all that remained recognizable was a swatch of red and yellow on his letterman's jacket.

Lois tried to push the fragile corpse from atop her, but the footballer was just too heavy even in this state. "Argh!" She yelled out in revulsion and fear, and this time there was help at hand.

Lois didn't know where he'd come from, he appeared so rapidly, but no sooner had she cried out a second time than Clark was at her side, tugging off the body like it weighed nothing.

"Lois! Are you alright?" There was genuine concern in his eyes, and it reminded her of the time she'd been left to drown in a Metropolis, only to be saved by the mysterious plaid wearing farm boy.

"I'm fine," Lois pushed up on her shoulders and puckered her nose, "which is more than I can say for jock number two…"

Clark nodded. "Sheriff Adams is on her way. She didn't believe me at first…apparently the police were inundated with calls about weird stuff last night." He looked to Steadman's body, "Why?" Was all he could ask.

Lois shook her head and scrambled back up on her feet. She brushed flecks of burnt flesh from her jacket and then stopped dead as she heard another sound. Clark had picked up on it too. He shot Lois a 'don't move' look and then carefully crept towards the door the noise was coming from. Lois couldn't know it, but Clark had already scanned behind and knew what he was up against.

Slowly, the towering teen turned the door knob and drew it back. He wasn't cautious because he was up against a killer, but because he knew an old friend had somehow been reduced to a quivering mess, hiding on the closet floor.

As the daylight hit his eyes, Spooner began to shake until his body was almost convulsing. Somehow he dared to look up, expecting death, but miraculously all he saw were the troubled eyes of Clark Kent. The sight was too much, and Spooner couldn't hold back tears any longer. He rolled to his savior's feet and wept, little knowing more death was just a few hours away when it once again became the witching hour…

Clark paced the hallway of Smallville medical center as if someone close to him was in for major surgery. There was something terribly wrong in his home town, and somehow the teen knew he didn't have long to solve the mystery.

Once Adams had shown up at the crime scene things had gotten out of hand and fast. The local Sheriff was a disbeliever in all things meteor related, and she certainly didn't buy anything supernatural either. So, when all they'd been able to get out of Spooner was a tale of unearthly spirits, Adams had been inclined to lock the terrified teen in a cell as a suspect.

Clark had intervened of course, and almost ended up in a cell alongside Spooner. Amazingly, only Lois' involvement had stopped things from spiralling out of control. Somehow, the general's daughter had talked Adam's around to letting Spooner be taken to the hospital for observation, and Clark had had to agree the jock needed some kind of help big time.

Both charred bodies had also been taken to the hospital, although Clark expected the coroner would be dealing with them by now.

"Will you stop pacing, Smallville? You're making me feel seas sick!" Lois tugged a coffee from a nearby vending machine and then stuck in more coins to buy Clark a drink. "I'm sure Chloe will be here soon with all the wall of weird evidence you need to wrap up this case."

"Well, I don't know about wall of weird material, but I am here…" Chloe Sullivan breezed into the corridor with her usual enthusiastic vigour and looked to her two friends, "So, I hear we've a new mystery on our hands?" She let her gaze stop at Clark and cocked her head slightly.

Clark finally stopped his pacing and considered showing Chloe the journal. He took a look around at the milling crowds and decided that maybe the hospital wasn't quite the place. "Something weird is going on, Chloe, and I don't think its meteor related this time."

Chloe's brow furrowed. Almost everything strange in Smallville that happened stemmed from the meteor shower. "Well, meteors or not we've got a town that freaked out last night and two dead bodies."

"Freaked out?" Lois glanced at Clark, "you mean me and farm boy weren't the only ones who got a serious case of poltergeist in the early hours?"

Chloe nodded. "When Clark called me I decided to do a little digging before I met up with you two. It seems half of Smallville were witness to some pretty spooky goings on." She tapped a folder in her left hand, "Not to mention what Spooner told the doctor in E.R. when he was brought in. All he kept babbling about were 'the people in the fog.'"

"Yeah, well that must be the beer talking, because Clark and I passed those jocks last night and there was no fog out there." Lois waited for Clark to agree, but instead he looked away as if someone had suddenly slapped him across the face.

Chloe noticed his expression too. "Something wrong, Clark?"

"Just something my dad told me last night. It's probably nothing. I'll explain later." He tucked both his hands into his red jacket's pockets and made it quite clear he wasn't going to talk about it just yet_. Lois would think I was nuts if I said I was considering ghosts… _"So, apart from Spooner's explanation, did you find anything else out?"

Chloe grinned. "I don't have the best contacts in this hospital for nothing." She ushered them over nearer to the wall and out of the way of the crowds in the main corridor. Then, she lowered her voice as she opened up the folder in her hand. "It seems like the preliminary examinations of Gates and Steadman turned up some pretty interesting info." She flipped a page, "Neither of them actually died from the burns. Both of them have piercing wounds all over their bodies."

"Stabbed to death?" Lois whistled as she recalled the gouges in the wood near the screen door at Spooner's house.

"It gets weirder," Chloe couldn't explain the next part. Not if Clark and Lois were convinced they'd seen the jocks alive and well only hours earlier. "My 'friend' says the coroner is convinced Gates and Steadman were burned days ago. Something to do with the decomposition of the cadavers…"

"But that's impossible, Chloe!" Clark raised his voice and then quickly realized he was almost shouting, "We both saw them last night."

Lois huffed. "Typical small town medicine can't get anything right!" She began to scurry off down the corridor with one thing in mind, and Clark wasn't about to stop her. If Lois wanted to go play 'Quincy' then that left him time to finally tell Chloe more about the journal.

"Knowing Lois she just might storm the morgue…" Chloe looked over Clark's shoulder as her cousin vanished around a corner. "Do you think we should follow her?" Part of the reporter in her wanted to, but the other half had already guessed Clark wasn't going after Lois because he had something else to say.

"We can catch up in a minute, but first there's something I want to show you." Clark reached under his jacket and pulled out the aged diary from his pocket. "I found this in our attic last night, about the time all of those weird things started to happen in town."

Chloe took the small book and flipped open the cover. "Wow, talk about discovering your roots!" She read the very first entry and then looked up, "Have you read all of it?"

Clark shook his head. In all the confusion he'd read no more than Chloe just had, but that didn't stop his imagination from connecting the book to what was now happening in Smallville. "My dad told me a story last night from years ago. There was a fog involved. Some said it was an unnatural one…"

"Ugh oh," Chloe rolled her eyes, "Major spook alert, huh? Did this story explain why we're suddenly getting visitations after all these years?"

Clark looked to the floor, "No, but I have a feeling my finding the diary was somehow the catalyst. What else could it be?"

Lois could hear her cousin talking in the background as she bustled down the hospital hallway towards where the bodies of Steadman and Gates where being kept. It was all well and good Chloe looking for some supernatural answer, but Lois was convinced there had to be a more rational explanation- even here in Smallville.

"Burned days ago my foot!" She muttered under her breath as she reached an intersection in the corridor and took a left. "Have these guys even been looking at the right corpses?"

Lois stopped whining and dived into an alcove as an orderly exited the room she wanted to scope out. When he'd vanished into another corridor, she popped her head out and checked there was no one else around. Satisfied, she edged across the hallway and dived into the room before anyone could stop her.

It wasn't like she'd expected. Steadman and Gates were laid out on two separate examination tables and had only been covered by a sheet. Somehow, Lois had imagined they'd be locked up and refrigerated in body bags by now. Still, this scenario was all the better for her to have a look around.

_Yeah right, like I get a kick out of looking at the dead! _Lois lifted the first white sheet and scrunched up her nose in disgust at what she found. It was Steadman, the jock whose body had fallen on her in Spooner's kitchen. _So, how the heck do I tell how long he's been dead? Burned is burned! _

Lois glanced around to see if any paperwork had been left beside the bodies. There was a chart nearby, and she decided it warranted her scrutiny much more than the pungent corpse of one of the Smallville Crows finest. She tiptoed over and placed a hand on the chart, fully intent on reading its contents when a slithering sound caught her attention.

The noise had come from within the room, and it had sounded like something sliding across the linoleum flooring. _No, not sliding, dragging… _Lois' heart skipped a beat and she dared to spin around and confront what was behind her. The sight was not one she expected, and her legs became instantly frozen to the spot with fear. She screamed, even though it was not something 'the general's daughter' did very often, but then it wasn't exactly every day she got stalked by a dead man.

_TBC..._


	4. The Fog Part 4

The instant Lois' yelp of terror rang out; Clark's ears had detected and recognized it. He put a hand up to stop Chloe in mid-sentence, and spun around to race down the corridor. Chloe didn't ask questions, she simply followed at a similar pace.

As the pair dived into the morgue area, so did the orderly that had been there earlier. He scowled at the two teens, and then noticed Lois standing like a frozen statue with her back up against the wall, and her eyes wide open.

"What the hell are you guys doing down here?" He followed Lois' panicked gaze and realized one of the cadavers from the gurneys was now on the floor. "Hey, don't you know this kind of thing is an offence?"

"Dean, we're not exactly into bodysnatching!" Chloe ignored the orderly and scurried to her cousin's side to make sure she was okay.

The orderly finally realized who he was talking to and calmed- but only slightly. "Chloe! You should know I can't allow you in here. I told you I'd send you more information if I got any." He leaned over, wincing at the grisly corpse that now lay with its right hand outstretched on the linoleum. "Are you sure your friend here hasn't been playing a little prank?" He didn't sound amused.

Clark hunched down and took a look at what Dean, Chloe's informant, was so annoyed about. The body hadn't just moved off its gurney, it looked like the outstretched hand had been trying to write something in congealed blood. The teen raised a brow as he managed to make out what appeared to be the number six. "I know Lois can be annoying," he quipped. "But trust me, she's not the type to mess with the dead."

"Unlike you, Dean." Chloe pointed out. "You chose to do it for a living!"

Dean stood back up and waved off anymore comments. "Okay, okay, so your friend didn't do this. He looked over to the still terrified Lois. "Did you see who else was down here?"

Lois shook her head and seemed to struggle to speak. Any other time Clark would have made a comment about never seeing her dumbstruck before, but today he kept quiet. It was obvious she'd had too many frights for one day, and not even Lois was impervious to sheer terror. He walked over and put and arm comfortingly around her still shaking shoulders. "Lois, what happened?" He soothed.

"There was no one else here." She gulped, finally regaining her composure. "I had my back to the gurneys taking a look around for info on how long these two had been dead. The next thing I know, Gates or whichever one that is, was doing a 'Thriller' on me!"

"Bodies don't just get up and walk!" Dean scoffed and considered picking the cadaver up and returning it to its resting place.

Chloe at last noticed the scrawled writing on the floor and wasn't so sure. "Not even here in Smallville?" She cocked a brow and then glanced back to Clark and Lois. "So, any idea why Mr. Dawn of the Dead would try and write the number six?"

Clark shrugged. Of all the things going on, nothing appeared to be linked to the number. "Maybe we should go read the journal?" He asked, feeling his pocket to convince himself it was still there.

"Journal?" Both the orderly and Lois questioned simultaneously.

Chloe shook her head. "I don't have time to play historian right now. I have to go write out what I'm going to discuss on tonight's late show." Her eyes sparkled with excitement at getting her own spot on KROW. "Why don't you show Lois the journal and we can all go through some theories once I get off air." She thought about it and then added, "Actually, maybe you could call me with what you find. I could maybe use this!"

Lois winced and looked over to Clark. "Do I look like Nancy Drew?" Her expression dared him to make a quip, and of course he rose to the challenge with his usual mile wide grin.

"Well, now that you mention it…"

Dean coughed. "Ahem, journal?" He questioned again, wondering what on earth anyone's diary could have to do with corpse tampering.

Chloe brushed it aside with her usual air of journalist mystery. "I don't know- yet, but stay tuned to KROW tonight and I just might have a story for you."

Lois took one last look at the body Dean had yet to remove and summarily grabbed Clark's arm. "Come on, Hardy boy. You and I have some reading to do where its nice and safe in the Kent loft." She pulled roughly on his jacket sleeve and muttered, "Anywhere as long as I don't see another dead body for a week…no, make that a month…"

Clark followed obediently. He hated to admit it, but it was good to have the old Lois back.

Lana sighed and checked the wall clock. It was still early, and she somehow felt she should have better things to do than mope around in her flat above the Talon. Things had been so different since her return from Paris, and on days like this she almost wished she could go back to the time before her trip.

On impulse, the ex-cheerleader grabbed her car keys and decided to drive out to the stables where she kept her horse. Despite her stint in Europe, she'd still kept paying the fees because she hadn't the heart to leave the one thing behind that had never let her down. Today, she decided, it was time she returned the favour.

Twenty minutes later, Lana was climbing out of her Jeep and hoping her horse hadn't forgotten her.

"I have him all ready for you, Miss Lang." A slightly short, aged man appeared with a horse in tow, and smiled. "When you called, it was so nice to hear from you."

Lana smiled back. "You shouldn't have, Burt. I could have saddled him up." She'd known the old timer for many years, and he was always too happy to help when he was around. "Thanks, though." She took the reins and climbed into the saddle before she could have second thoughts.

The horse snorted. It had been awhile since he'd been ridden, and he'd almost forgotten the sensation of someone on his back. Lana patted his neck affectionately and gently pulled the reins, indicating it was time for them to leave.

Burt waved and watched as his favourite horse and rider trotted off into the distance and onto Luthorcorp land. Normally, no one rode on the pastures even though they weren't in use. It was still taboo to some people in Smallville to be associated with the Luthors- and that included using their land to exercise horses. Lana didn't feel that way.

After trotting at a reasonable pace for about two miles she came to the oak tree she'd once sat under with Clark. It had been one of the happier moments in her life, and the sight of it now brought back memories she didn't care to think about. She softly dug her heels back and indicated for her ride to speed up again.

Once the wind began to whip against her, Lana abruptly felt invigorated for the first time in months. She let her horse speed up even further, until they were almost galloping over the grassland like some wild mustang and daredevil rodeo rider. The thrill of the charge seemed to last forever, and was only halted when her horse suddenly shied from the land in front of them.

The animal dug its hind hoofs into the grass until sods of earth flew up behind it, and for a moment Lana thought the horse was going to rear up and throw her. It whinnied in acute distress and then backed up; prancing as if there was something on the ground it sorely needed to trample the life out of.

Lana's heart raced, and she tried desperately to see if there was a snake in the long grass that could have spooked her charge. "There's nothing there…" She tried to calm the horse, but it snorted harder and she seemed to be able to sense its rapid heartbeat echoing her own. Something was wrong here, but it wasn't anything tangible.

"I can't ride you like this!" Lana bit her lip and swung down off the horse's back. She tugged the reins over its long mane and tried to lead it back across the meadow.

The horse shied again. This time from something Lana could actually see.

Poking from the ground where the horse had dug in its hoofs was a segment of timber. It looked blackened, as if water in the soil had permeated it over many years.

Lana frowned and bent over, curious as to what the shaped piece of wood might once have been. As she grew closer, she noted grooves in its surface, and couldn't resist brushing away more loose earth to try and discern what they were.

As her fingertips caressed the section of wood, her horse almost screamed in terror, and this time it held nothing back. With one gut-wrenching whine, the horse reared up on its hind legs and tugged the reins from Lana's grasp. There was no time to try and settle the animal down. It simply charged off at full gallop with the white's of its eyes showing in total panic.

Lana inhaled and took it in her stride. It was just another bad day in a string of many bad days. She decided to let the animal have time to settle down and put her immediate attention back to the timber. It was as if the ancient segment was calling to her, and she couldn't resist its temptation.

Grabbing the protruding edge with both hands, Lana tugged back as hard as she could, and the earth finally gave way its treasure. The wood was longer than Lana had expected, and engraved deeply into one side were letters that almost certainly spelled a name.

…_beth Dane _

Lana guessed the missing segment of wood contained the remaining letters to form the name 'Elizabeth.' "So, what are you doing all the way out here?" She looked around, trying to think of what the timber could have once been, and then as clearly as the sun shone in the sky she remembered.

The land might belong to Luthorcorp now, but according to a project she'd done in History class it had once been Smallville cemetery. In all probability, the thing in her hand was the remnants of an old style wooden tombstone.

For a second, Lana was tempted to drop the fragment and run to find her horse, but then she shook off the idea. It was silly to be superstitious. The dead couldn't hurt anyone, only the living could- and besides, she was now intrigued as to who Elizabeth Dane was.

Lana took off her jacket and wrapped her new treasure in it. Then, she began the long hike back to the stables wondering how she'd manage to round up her horse if he was still spooked.

It was past 4pm by the time Lana eventually made it back to the Talon, but she didn't mind. For once she'd had an adventurous day that hadn't involved some meteor freak or ex-boyfriend attacking her.

She jogged up the stairs with the wood segment under one arm, and gave Martha Kent a quick wave with her free hand. "Hi, Mrs. Kent. Is Clark around?" If anyone would help solve the mystery of the wood it would be Clark or Chloe, but Chloe was probably off writing her ideas for the KROW show.

Martha shook her head. "He gave Lois a lift into town and I haven't seen him since. Do you want me to call him?"

Lana smiled, wrinkling her nose in the process. "No need, thanks." She responded. "I'm sure I can catch up with him later…"

Lana carried on up to her flat and quickly unlocked the door. It wouldn't be as much fun without Clark or Chloe, but maybe she could still find out about the piece of wood. _Just as long as it doesn't involve long dead witches and burning at the stake!_ She shivered, and placed the wood down while she made coffee.

Before she could investigate further her phone began to ring with her favourite jingle. She flipped it open and quickly accepted the call when she saw it was from Clark. "Hi," she said cheerily. "I was hoping to…"

Before Lana had finished talking, she realized there was a strange smell in the apartment. A smell that had the distinct aroma of burning wood. She spun around, suddenly horrified at what was happening.

Even though there was nothing to ignite it, the timber she had found from the long lost grave yard was engulfed in flames. "Clark, I'll be right back!"

Lana tossed down her cell phone and immediately grabbed a towel, beating at the flames and smoke until she'd smothered them. She drew in a breath before taking stock of any damage, and it was then she realized something was terribly wrong.

The wooden memorial looked just the way it had when she'd found it. There was no sign of any fire damage, and no scorching on the table where it lay. Lana's eyes bulged and she gaped for a second before tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ear.

She prodded the wood with her forefinger, but it wasn't even warm to the touch. Eventually, she retrieved her phone and took a moment to try and explain what had happened to Clark.

"Hi, Clark. Sorry I had to bail on you, but the strangest thing just happened…"

Somehow, Clark wasn't surprised. "Tell me about it. Strange things have been happening to me all day!" Clark paused, taking in the implications of Lana's first statement. "Is everything okay? Do you need me to come over?"

"No, I'm fine. It's just I found this old piece of wood with engravings on while I was out riding. I thought it might be fun to try and trace where it was from, but well_…" How do I tell him it just spontaneously combusted! He'll think I hit Isobel mode again!_ "It's nothing really." She decided to keep the fire to herself for now, "I think the wood is from a grave. Some one called 'Elizabeth Dane.' Have you ever heard of her?"

The line went quiet while Clark thought about it. After a second he admitted he hadn't. "Sorry, the name doesn't ring any bells. Is it important? Only Lois and I kind of have a little investigation of our own going, and I was wondering if you'd like to come on over and join in. We could listen to Chloe on the radio together too in my loft."

Lana considered it. Suddenly, she wanted to be in peoples' company more than ever, and she wanted to distance herself from the weird segment of wood, but one of her old friends from high school was coming over later, and she couldn't be in two places at once. "I'll have to take a rain check on that, Clark. Stacey, my cheerleading buddy is coming over for a Brad Pitt marathon later and I'd hate to let her down."

"Well, if you're sure you're okay?" Clark could tell from Lana's tome she was not, but he'd long since learned not to go against her wishes.

"I'm fine." She lied. "I'll catch you tomorrow maybe." As Clark hung up Lana winced. She'd wanted his company, and then when he had rang and offered it she'd said no. Was it because Lois was involved? She pushed away the thought and instead looked at the piece of wood again.

The name Dane seemed even more harshly engraved into the timber now. In fact, it looked like it had almost been seared in. She tentatively tried to touch the lettering again, and this time her fingertips recoiled as somehow red hot heat emanated from the surface.

Lana grabbed the nearby scorched towel and threw it over her find. Now, she wished she had taken note of her horse's sixth sense and left the wooden section behind in the earth where it belonged. Soon, she would wish even harder, because the witching hour was once again rapidly approaching, and tonight the fog would return for its full retribution.

_TBC..._


	5. The Fog Part 5

**Thanks for the reviews everyone :)**

Clark popped his cell phone back in his pocket and frowned. After the day's goings on he was worried about Lana. The way she'd spoken had sounded like she was scared, and her breathless state indicated something had been going on more than just coffee making. _You're paranoid! Lana probably just had to hurry to get to the phone. But then why did she leave me hanging on the line?_

"Hello? Smallville, will you stop daydreaming about Miss Pom Pom queen and explain to me why we're sitting in your loft?" Lois cocked a brow and pointed to the journal that Clark has placed on the table earlier, "We have a mystery to supposedly resolve, remember?"

Clark inhaled, bobbed his head in acknowledgment, and tugged off his jacket to sit beside Lois. "Lana sounded scared. I guess after everything we've seen today I overreacted." He stared at the journal. "I can't shake the feeling something bad is about to happen because of this thing."

"Well don't you think we should stop beating around the bush and read the dang thing?" Lois reached out to pick up the faded book, but Clark beat her to it.

The journal contained the musings of a long dead Kent family member, and somehow it seemed fitting Clark should be the first one to read it. He gently teased the yellowing pages back and began where Nathanial Kent had scribbled his first thoughts of the year.

To begin with, there was nothing more than notes about what was going on in the local farming community. But later, things seemed to take an ugly turn. Clark scowled as he read how farmers were systematically 'removed' from their land by a local businessman because he had bigger plans for it.

Lois read over Clark's shoulder and whistled. "Wow, talk about history repeating itself! That sounds just like what Lionel Luthor did to this town back in the eighties."

Clark turned to look at her, surprised that she knew so much about a place she usually considered 'Hicksville.' "I don't think even Lionel went this far…" He tapped the next page and grimaced. "Look what Nathanial has to say about Alfred Holbrook."

Lois squinted in the dull barn light, and then began to read aloud from the journal dated 1.30am, 21st April 1880.

'_Holbrook is relentless in his pursuit of the Kansas land we farm. Never have I seen such a single minded man before. An hour or so ago, he took his greed one step further. At midnight, he and a group of five others conspired to commit murder in the very church in which we pray! _

_I don't know why I was invited to the proceedings when not even the town's founding family, the Smalls were present. Perhaps they saw me as some kind of informer who would help them, but never would I have agreed to their infernal and heathen plans!_

_Not only did Holbrook wish to take the land. He had ideas about how he would go about it, and had gained our local priest, Father Malone's help. Holbrook, Malone and the others took just one hour to come up with their devilish plot. A plot of which I swore to take no part in! _

_The scheme was simple. The only farmers who now stood against Holbrook and had any chance of winning were Elizabeth Dane, a local widow who owned the majority of acres in Smallville, and her neighbour Blake. Each week Dane and Blake would rally the locals in a town meeting held in the church just before midnight. _

_Holbrook, Malone and their cohorts conspired to burn down the church and all held within it at tonight's meeting. I go now to try and warn my neighbors and friends of what awaits them this evening, and I pray they will listen, for between midnight and one will surely belong to the dead…_

Lois finished her narrative and looked at Clark with a scowl. "And I thought Smallville was weird in this century!"

Clark wasn't really listening. He was processing the information and beginning to join up the missing dots. He stood up with his back to Lois and with the diary still in his hands. When he had a plausible sounding theory, he turned back around. "Lois, my dad said a fog came to Smallville the night Nathanial is talking about, and that there was a terrible tragedy. People died in a fire…"

Lois put her hands on her hips. "Well, I guess we just re-wrote Smallville history then, because the fire was no tragedy, it was outright murder." Her brow furrowed and she took the book from his hands to take another glimpse. "This entry is dated 21st of April. Today is 21st April…"

Clark nodded. "And last night we had an unusual fog in town and people got burned." He walked over to look out of the barn shutter. It was a crystal clear night, and that at least gave him some reassurance he was possibly being melodramatic. But then there was more evidence of something supernatural, and Lana had been the one to discover it. "Lois, you remember earlier when I said Lana sounded spooked?"

Lois rolled her eyes. "Smallville, when isn't that girl spooked?" At Clark's annoyed expression she added, "Yeah, I remember. So what? Did she see a ghost or a mystery fog too?"

"No, but she mentioned finding something with the name Elizabeth Dane on. Tell me the odds say that's a coincidence?" Clark gently took the book and rifled through every page of the diary again trying to find more evidence but there was nothing. "The chimney was burned near where we found this, and there were no more entries. What if Holbrook and Malone made sure Nathanial was too busy with a fire at his homestead to tell the others? What if…"

"Whoa!" Lois held up her hand. "That's a whole lot of 'what ifs,' there, Smallville." She crossed her arms and bit her lip, reminding Clark of an expression Chloe often had while investigating. It was kind of cute. "So, you're thinking that somehow after all these years we have ghosts out for revenge, and they're likely to come back tonight?"

"No…" Clark held onto the wooden handrail and looked down on the barns' interior. "I don't really know what I think, but you can see the connections, can't you?"

Lois not only saw them, she had thought of another, and it was creeping her out to even think about it. Reluctantly, she decided to tell him her assumption. "Clark, there were six conspirators who planned the murders."

Clark turned from the rail and his eyes seemed to exude dread instead of his usual playful charm. "The body in the morgue..."

Lois nodded again. "Yup, that guy tried to scrawl the number six, and now we know why." She waited for Clark to make his usual dash to try and play hero, but he didn't move. "At least, I think we know why."

"Lois, I think six people must die tonight in order for the presence in the fog to be satiated, but how do we know who will be targets after all these years." Clark paced the barn, brushing a hand through his hair in total frustration. "Do you think Gates, Spooner and Steadman were relatives of the conspirators, or will the killings be random?"

Lois shook her head and ventured an idea. "Do you think the church will have any records about all this? I mean it _is_ directly connected to the whole affair."

Clark agreed. "Did you know the priest is a direct descendant of the Malone the journal refers to? I think maybe we should go see him. Even if there are no records he could be a target!" This time Clark did start to descend the wooden steps at a jog.

"Whoa, slow down! In fact, who says I want to go play Ghostbusters with you right now?" Lois babbled on, but hastened down the steps just as quickly as Clark had. "What about the police?"

Clark spun around and grimaced. "Do you want to try and tell Sheriff Adams there's going to be four more murders tonight, but the killers are long dead spirits?" He reached the barn entrance and looked longingly at the open fields he could easily superspeed over. That, however, was out of the question with Lois in tow.

"You have a point, Smallville. That acerbic old grouch would probably arrest us instead." Lois impatiently jogged to the Kent truck and climbed in. "We can tune in to Chloe's show on the way over there. Come on, let's get a move on!"

"My parents…" Clark hesitated. He sorely wanted to tell his mom and dad where he was about to go, but he didn't want to alarm them when in all probability he'd just been around too many wall of weird cases.

"I'm sure they have better things to do than listen to our ghost stories. You do know we're probably way off base with all this?" Lois peered at Clark as he climbed behind the wheel. "I mean, don't think for one minute I'd be heading to some old church yard at almost midnight if I thought I was getting anywhere near a ghost…or an unearthly fog…"

Clark had to smile as he slid the truck into gear and Lois continued to babble on. "So, are you going to turn on the radio and hit KROW or what?" He grinned and accelerated the pickup until he reached the maximum speed permitted on the Smallville back roads.

Lois flicked the button and settled into listening to Smallville's only radio station. The D.J. named Dan's soothing tones almost made her forget why they were out in the middle of the night- almost.

The Kent truck trundled up the rough stone driveway to Smallville's oldest church, and came to a halt outside the recently painted gate. Lois shuddered as the radio began to hiss and pop suddenly, but she didn't comment on the phenomenon. "It looks…"

"Almost ghostly," Clark finished for her, and then noted a slight ethereal mist hovering just above ground. It would just about cover the tops of his boots- certainly nothing you'd call fog, but at two minutes to twelve on this certain night it was definitely worthy of giving Goosebumps to anyone.

Lois nodded. "So do you know the priest here?" She asked.

"We've met." Clark answered as he climbed out of the cab. "The old guy drinks way too much, though." He glanced at the increasing miasma that whirled at his feet. It wasn't getting any higher, but it somehow had a life of its own far more than any ordinary mist. _I'm imagining it. It's just moisture in the atmosphere._ "Why don't you wait here, Lois? Maybe keep the engine running."

"Do I detect a hint of fear, farm boy?" Lois wasn't making one of her usual sarcastic comments. She was sensing the same foreboding as Clark, and it left her with the identical desire to have the means for a quick getaway. She slithered over the Dodge's bench seat and settled in behind the steering wheel. "Don't be too long, Clark. I'm really starting to not like this."

Clark nodded and gestured to the radio. "Why don't you turn it up? It will take your mind off things till I get back."

"I somehow doubt it!" Lois scrunched up her nose in her best Lana impression but turned up the volume anyway. Chloe's part of the show was due anytime now and maybe the sound of her cousin's voice would have a calming effect.

Clark watched her and abruptly realized he was staring. Lois was definitely getting to him- in a good way. He smiled, and then whirled back around to enter the church grounds. As he unlatched the gate, it whined and shrieked through lack of lubrication.

The noise was grating to Clark's perceptive ears, and it sent a steely chill between his shoulders_. It's just an old gate._ The superteen tried not to panic, but the further he got into the church yard, the more his heart began to throb in his chest. Even the sight of the brick and wood holy structure looming before him did little to ease his trepidation.

"Why are you here?" The elderly, gruff voice floated across the darkness, stopping Clark in his tracks. The inflection and timbre suggested the speaker was less than pleased about his interruption. In fact, the teen was sure he noted anger.

Licking his lips, Clark turned slowly to meet the man behind the voice. "Father Malone, I need to speak with you…"

_TBC..._


	6. The Fog Part 6

Malone appeared to scoff at the teen's voice, and his mane of grey hair bobbed along with his derisive chuckle. He held an almost empty bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand, and a tattered bible in the other. "Everyone wants to speak to me tonight, boy, even the dead."

Clark faced the obviously intoxicated priest, and noted a thick growth of white stubble on the man's face. He looked like he hadn't slept or washed in a few days. "Something's happening in Smallville, and I think you know what it is," he challenged. "You know about the church incident all those years ago, don't you?"

"I've been waiting for the aftermath of that night since I took over my grandfather's position here." The priest's voice sounded gruff, perhaps from too many years of drinking, or maybe because he'd had harsh words with someone recently. "I always knew they'd come for me one day…" He spun around so that his back was to Clark, and he stared at the nearest gravestone with a blank, guilt-ridden expression.

"You've seen them?" Clark couldn't hide his amazement that Malone had survived and was willingly speaking about it so openly. Again, maybe it was the whiskey talking. "If you know so much, how do we stop them?"

Malone laughed and put the bottle to his lips, draining the last dregs of alcohol. "You can't stop them, Sonny. Between midnight and one belongs to them, and they will have their retribution against those who conspired in the original crime!"

Clark exhaled in frustration. "But after all these years that means people will die simply because they're descendants of the original killers. How can that even be called revenge? They're innocent!" He edged a little closer to the priest, somehow sensing the drunken man knew more. "Why didn't they kill you? You know who they're going after, don't you?"

Malone stumbled on something below the thick emerald mist at his feet, but caught the edge of a tomb and managed not to fall. He turned back to Clark then and scowled in fear and anguish. "They came for me…but I told them…I told them who the real criminals were!"

Clark shook his head in miscomprehension, suddenly feeling chilly as he grew closer to the priest. "You gave them the names of the descendants?" The teen's eyes widened at what another human being would do to avoid death. "Is that why they spared you?"

"Most of the descendants are long dead, boy, or have moved away. Only I and your own family still reside in Smallville. How could I appease them with that?"

Clark's gaped, not just because his parents had been implicated, but because Malone had apparently given out names at random just to save his own hide. "Spooner and the others were attacked for nothing!"

The priest sneered and his bloodshot eyes seemed to mock the teenager before him. "They were no good wasters. The town will be better off without their kind." He looked up to the church, and ignoring Clark began to head towards it and into the ever-increasing mass hovering above the ground.

"Wait!" Clark began to give chase. "Who are the others? And why were you spared?" He faltered after several steps, suddenly feeling an all-too familiar burning in his veins. Still he pushed on after Malone, needing to have answers. "We might be able to save everyone if you just tell me!" He lurched forward, grabbing a gravestone and slithering helpless down its cold surface until he sat bathed in the unhealthy glowing fog.

Malone whirled around surprisingly deftly considering his unsteady gait minutes before. His temper was roused now at the boy who dared to judge him. "I wasn't spared because they gave me mercy." He threw out his left hand, pointing with the empty bottle. "Look around you, what do you see?"

Clark squinted, feeling nauseous_. The fog wasn't tinted green before…the glow is coming from beneath it._ He groaned, realizing that part of the church grounds had obviously taken a meteor hit. "The spirits can't cross the barrier the meteors create?" He shuddered, wondering if he could talk some sense into the priest before he passed out.

"I don't know how it works…" Malone's eyes narrowed as he noted at last that Clark had collapsed. "All I know is that I'm safe here!" He spat out the words.

"Who else did you implicate?" Clark was virtually croaking out his questions now.

The priest unexpectedly chuckled. "The Luthors have crippled this town as surely as Holbrook did all those years ago. They've deceived, lied, murdered even…" He sighed. "The others are less deserving of their fates, but that can't be helped…"

Clark tried to crawl forward tugging his weakened body until he was almost at Malone's feet. "The Luthors and who else?" He begged, panting.

"Your father was already implicated just by being a relative of Nathanial Kent. Then, I pointed them to the only other two families that were around back then." Malone shrugged. "It doesn't matter. The Smalls aren't even in town. Only Dan Weatherall is in any real danger, but that can't be helped."

Clark grew even more alarmed. Henry Small might not be in Smallville right now, but his daughter, Lana certainly was. The thought of the name she had spoken came back to him, and he wondered if the phantoms had already paid her a visit. The very idea gave him strength to fight the evil Kryptonite encumbering his body, and he lurched forward again one more time.

"You're a man of God. You can't stand idly by and let this happen all over again!" The teen yelped pleadingly at Malone. "Help me stop them. You've talked with them. Maybe they'd listen to you and not act first…"

"I'm not a man of God! I'm a coward!" The still drunken priest was becoming more and more irrational in his own fear. He tossed down the bible from his hand and fixed his eyes instead on the shimmering mist that now almost covered Clark.

"It doesn't have to be this way. I know there's part of you that still believes…"

Clark's last pleading yelp was too much. Malone had dreaded this day since he'd been old enough to understand what had happened back in 1880, and now to be told he could still have any kind of faith was like a slap in the face. He whirled around with the empty Jack Daniels bottle and tossed it as hard as he could at Clark. He had intended it to glance off the tombstone Clark had fallen onto earlier, but in his stupor the bottle flew wide to the left and actually caught Clark by the side of the head. It shattered on impact, but still pushed the hurting teen to the ground with its impetus.

Malone didn't even see what he had done. He had already turned his back on Clark and was stumbling back to the safety of his church. The ghosts couldn't touch him there- no one could. As he walked, the fog grew denser, but the souls trapped within could not escape to deliver revenge because of the strange green rocks that littered the grounds.

Lois tapped the dashboard of the truck impatiently and looked at her watch at least every thirty seconds. "Come on, Smallville," she murmured and then glanced out towards the church.

There was no sign of Clark, or the elusive priest they had come to visit. There was, however, an ever-growing abundance of fog gathering around the roadway's edges. Lois shuddered and powered up her window, wishing the action would stop the mist should it try and enter the vehicle_. Right, Lane. You've seen enough movies to know it will creep in through every orifice in this crate! _

The sound of the engine ticking over did little to placate her, so she turned up the radio even louder.

_This is Dan Weatherall, your D.J for tonight over at Smallville's very own KROW. Tonight, folks we have a special treat for all you fans of the bizarre and spooky! After the break, we'll be talking to Smallville High's self appointed mystery solver, Chloe Sullivan. So, stay tuned for some really weird theories… _

Lois had to smile at the D.J. and his description of her cousin. _Right now I wish I was safe and warm in a radio station instead of out here feeling like an extra in some John Carpenter movie!_ She gulped and shot another glance out of the window.

"Okay, farmboy, I've just had enough of waiting out here!" Lois contemplated taking the keys from the ignition, but a nagging thought in her mind kept saying the truck would never start again if she did. So, taking a risk, she left the keys in and the engine running. "You better not be in there stuffing in coffee and biscuits, Kent!" She grumbled as she climbed out and slammed the Dodge's heavy door, but a sinking feeling in her stomach told her things weren't that rosy.

Lois pushed through the gate where Clark had entered and grimaced at the shrill sound of metal on metal. She tried not to shiver and carried on in the direction she'd seen her friend take.

"Clark! Clark!"

The spiralling haze around her feet seemed almost taunting, and Lois took her gaze from it and tried to fix her eyes on the church instead. It was obviously not the building, or even the same designed structure that had burned down all those years ago. In fact, from what she and Clark had discovered it wasn't even built on the same land. _It's still creeping me out! _

Lois felt something touch her boot and stopped dead. Whatever it was had felt soft and a little too inviting. _Kinda like touching flesh…_Lois backed up but instead of looking down closed her eyes and muttered, "It's just a coat or bag or something. It's not another burned body, not a body…"

After two deep breaths, she finally glanced down and her heart skipped a beat. Just visible over the top of the now green shimmering vapour was a mammoth sized tan boot that Lois recognized.

Suddenly, the level-headed Miss. Lane felt sick to her stomach. Even though she chided and teased him, she would never wish any harm to Clark. Most people saw them as total opposites, and in many ways that was true, and yet…and yet there was something about the plaid wearing farm boy that she liked. To think now that he might lie dead and disfigured like Steadman or Gates was simply unthinkable. _I should have come with him!_

Guilt wracked her conscience, but Lois was still afraid to kneel down and check on Clark. It would be too much to bear if…if…

"Clark!" This time the anguish was easily apparent in her raised tone, and she forced herself to her knees to find out what had become of him.

Clark was face down in the earth, and as Lois shook his shoulder gently he groaned and rolled over. It was still difficult to see beneath the mist, but to Lois it looked like she saw blood. _He's alive, though!_ "Come on, Clark. It look's like I've got to save your butt again," she tried to rouse him and pull him into a sitting position with his back against the gravestone. "First cornfields, and now church yards. You really do have to stop making a habit of this!" She smiled, but her expression showed the teen she was tending she was truly concerned.

"Hey, at least I have my clothes on this time." Clark tried to ease her worry with his quip, but until he could get away from the Kryptonite he was in no real condition to talk. "Can you give me a hand back to the truck?"

Lois noted how drowsy he appeared, but put it down to the bump he'd obviously taken to his head. She tugged out a tissue from her jeans pocket and wiped away some of the congealed blood from his brow. "Maybe you should wait a few minutes until you're a little steadier. You might have a concussion there, Sma…Clark." She smiled again, this time relieved that he wasn't going to be joining Steadman or Gates anytime soon.

Clark shook his head even though he was dizzy, and touched the cut beneath his hair tentatively with his hand. _Ouch!_ "No time to waste. Whatever is in the fog is probably going to go after Lana, or my dad!" He struggled to stand, but was getting nowhere until Lois gave in and took his weight. "Do you know a Dan Weatherall?" he asked, feeling helpless as Lois all but dragged him through the debilitating emerald mist.

Lois shook her head at first, but then stopped so violently Clark almost fell to his knees. "What is it?" He asked groggily.

"I heard that name tonight on the radio. Clark, he's the D.J. hosting the late show over at KROW with Chloe!"

_TBC..._


	7. The Fog Part 7

"The truck…" Clark didn't say more. He just indicated with his hand that they should hurry onward. The sooner he got to the truck, the better he would feel, and that meant he'd be able to help his friends.

Lois took the hint and tugged his arm over her shoulder again until they got back to the Dodge. Already feeling somewhat recovered, Clark attempted to head for the driver's door and was gently but firmly held back.

"Clark, you might feel okay now, but I'm driving this crate till someone gets to take a look at your head!" Lois forced the teen over to the passenger door before he could react and swiftly urged him inside.

Clark obeyed, trying to think of everything he had learned, and how he could use it to save Lex, Lana, Chloe, his parents, and anyone else who got in the spooks way. As he climbed inside the cab, he noted the radio was still blurting out. He reached a hand over to turn down the volume, but as she joined him, Lois swatted his hand away.

"Shush!" she ordered before he even had chance to speak.

Clark's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to retort, but then he realized what Lois meant. Dan Weatherall was on the radio again, and this time he wasn't talking about his show or his guest, Chloe.

_Hi, Dan Weatherall again here, bringing you an update on that fog bank a motorist spotted earlier. Apparently, it's headed this way, and will probably cover most of the town center within about a half hour at the speed it's drifting. So, if you're out driving tonight during the witching hour, take care on those narrow back roads, folks! _

"Lois! We have to tell Chloe to get everyone out of there." Clark was sitting up straight now that he was free from the evil green meteor rocks. "We need to get everyone back here!"

Lois pulled a face and reached out to feel for a bump on Clark's head. "Back here to the creepy church, with the kooky priest who assaults people?" she queried, incredulous at his remark. "Are you sure you didn't get your skull cracked open back there?"

Clark inhaled, wishing he didn't have to waste time explaining. "Malone spoke to the ghosts. That's how he knows who they're going after. He sent them!" The teen pointed from his window to the eerie jade glowing mist in the church yard. "The fog glows green back there because the grounds were hit by a meteor shower. Somehow, the rocks prevent the spirits from manifesting themselves in any kind of corporeal form. They couldn't hurt Malone so they went after the next best victims. If we can get everyone here they just might be safe."

Lois was finding it all a hard to take in, even after her experiences at the morgue. "You're telling me the meteors act like some factor fifteen spook block? Come on, Clark…"

Clark nodded. "How else would Malone still be very much alive?" He took a piece of tissue from Lois as he spoke, and tried to clean up the dried blood that had trickled down his face. The wound had thankfully been in his hairline, so at least Lois couldn't see that it was now gone.

Lois winced as she watched him. _That had to have hurt like hell._ "Okay, so if I buy this theory, now what? We can't be in five places at once saving everyone!" She glanced back at her companion, still looking concerned about his wellbeing. "Are you sure you're alright," she asked softly.

"I'm fine, Lois." Clark fumbled in his pocket and tugged out the journal, followed by the cell phone his mom had bought him for Christmas. He flipped it open and hit quick-dial for Chloe's number. "Start heading for the radio station. I'll try to call and warn everyone while you drive."

"You got it, Smallville!" Lois hit the truck's gas pedal as if she were driving her Mustang. The tires squealed as they churned up loose gravel, and in seconds the farm truck was careering towards KROW and straight into the mouth of the all-consuming miasma from Hades.

Chloe had never felt so nervous in her life. Sitting next to Dan Weatherall talking about her infamous Wall of Weird was easy, but up next was the phone in part of the show, and she was scared she might get some creep on the line.

She fidgeted, waiting for the next batch of ads to finish and the phone in to begin. Weatherall smiled at her reassuringly, but it didn't really help. Chloe picked up the small purse she had brought with her, and began rummaging absentmindedly just to keep her hands busy and not tapping on the table.

As she delved deeper, Chloe realized her cell phone was vibrating. _Good job I put it in silent mode. Wouldn't want the embarrassment of it ringing on air!_ Curious, she quickly flicked it over to see who was calling. Most of her friends knew she wouldn't be available right now, so it had to either be a wrong number, or something pretty urgent.

Chloe's brow creased as she recognized Clark's cell number. _And he's letting it ring over and over! _Ignoring the fact she had little time left before she was back on air, Chloe hit the green receive button and swiftly put the phone to her ear. "Clark, what's wrong?"

The voice on the other end sounded panicked. "Chloe, get everyone out of the radio station and up to the old church and I mean right now!" There was the sound of tires screeching and Lois cursing in the background, then Clark continued, "No time to give details. I have to call Lex and Lana. They're all in danger!"

"But…but…what am I supposed to tell people? They'll just think I'm nuts after the topic on here tonight!" Chloe shot a glance at Weatherall who was scowling at her breach of etiquette on his show.

Again, there was the sound of Lois yelling. This time it was something about 'They're in front of us. Where the heck do I go now, through the corn?' Then came Clark's harried voice. "Chloe, the fog isn't just a fog. There's something in it…something that wants revenge. Now just get everyone out of there before it gets to you!"

The line went dead, and Chloe was unsure if her friend had severed the connection, or if his cell had died. _Or maybe there's something in the fog. What if Clark can't get through to the others? _The reporter cut off her last thought and jumped up, disregarding Weatherall's shocked expression.

"We have to cut the show short tonight." She hit the mute button so the audience couldn't hear their conversation. "Listen, I know this is going to sound crazy, but we have to leave the station and try and avoid that fog bank you reported earlier."

Dan gaped. "Are you crazy, Sister? Did you think you can come on here and just use the show as some damn publicity stunt?"

Chloe scowled. "I'd love to sit and argue with you, but I'm not joking, and I have no real desire to die tonight!" She looked down at her cell, but it was suddenly showing no signal. _If Clark's is being affected the same… _"You know what? You're right." Chloe grabbed the microphone and hit transmit before her host could do anything. "The show must go on, and it's time I got to talk to a few townsfolk!"

Weatherall made a lunge to get his microphone back, but suddenly found they had visitors. Someone was banging harshly on the studio door, even though the sign outside should quite clearly say 'On Air.' He shot Chloe a look of complete rage, suspecting the newcomer was probably one of her high school buddies who had come to join in on the big joke.

"I'll make sure you never do anything like this again, Miss. Sullivan." Weatherall hissed and then decided to deal with the prankster at the door first. "I'll be talking with Sheriff Adams in the morning…"

Chloe ignored him and began her warning message. "I know I've talked about some weird stuff tonight, but this is not a joke. If you're in Smallville, please lock your doors and don't let anyone inside. If you can make it to the old church without entering the fog bank that's heading our way, then please do so. Lana, Lex, Mr and Mrs. Kent, I know you're probably listening to this broadcast, please try and make it to the church." Chloe released the transmit button and gulped. Then, she repeated it over twice more until she realized what Weatherall was doing.

The D.J. had scurried to the studio door, and was about to open it despite the thin mist oozing under it and filtering into the room. Chloe screamed, but he had no reason to trust her cry and continued to turn the latch.

"No!" Chloe yelled again so hard it felt like her vocal cords were about to tear.

Weatherall faltered, but all-too late. The door clicked open, and from outside a cloud of grey smog belched into the room. With it, came the almost mesmerizing figure of a woman. She appeared thin and frail, and her torso appeared to ebb and flow from the very mist itself. She smiled, but it was the malevolent smirk of someone about to satisfy an ancient urge for justice.

"What the…" Weatherall stammered and at last edged back from the doorway. His move, though, came far too late to save his life.

The whispery female apparition moved sideways, and from behind her another figure emerged from the tumbling mist. He wore the clothes of a farmer, and in his outstretched hand a rusted sickle dripped with blood. It was the same tool that had been used on Gates and Steadman, and now it was going to be used again.

Chloe gawked in disbelief as the ghost swung decisively at his target and sliced into the D.J. as if he were a piece of stock to be slaughtered. Blood sprayed across the wall and down Chloe's cheek, almost freezing her to the spot with fear. Only the downward motion of the warm liquid on her face tugged her from her terror induced reverie, and she frantically turned to seek out another exit.

As Chloe struggled from behind Weatherall's desk and past his broadcasting equipment, more spectres evolved from the fog oozing through the open doorway. She didn't look at them more than once, and she hoped she would never have to again. Each phantom bore the same trademark burns and blackened clothing, and each had the same glowing red eyes that demanded retribution.

The reporter was tempted to scream more, but she knew there was no one to hear. It was most likely that any staff still in the building had already succumbed to the ghosts. _Well I'm still alive. I'm not giving in yet! _Chloe dived behind several crates that had been placed illegally near a fire exit, and began to pound on the special release bar. It shuddered and then finally gave way to the pressure she was exerting.

Chloe tumbled outside into the KROW parking lot and rolled into a sitting position. From what she could see the fog had enveloped about half of the building and was creeping fast. She clambered to her feet and felt a pang of guilt at leaving the doomed Weatherall behind, but it was obvious he was already dead. Pushing her feelings aside, she regained her bearings and headed for the right hand section of the lot. It was still mist free, and that was hopefully where her little VW was still parked. _Why did I choose a soft-top? They'll be able to slice right through if they get close enough! _

She dared to look back over her shoulder towards the fire exit she'd escaped from, but as she tugged her driver's door open she realized the doorway was now invisible. It had been swallowed by a new wave of the fog and it was heading her way. "Clark, you better be right about this whole church thing, or we're all dead."

Once inside the Beetle, Chloe rammed the keys in the ignition and cranked the engine. She half expected it to splutter and die like in the movies, but it roared to life with its familiar purr and ticked over oblivious to the strange mist heading right for it.

Chloe yanked the car into gear and hit the gas with a burning sensation in the pit of her stomach. She had two choices which way to steer as she left the lot, straight to the church, or into town first to try and alert Lana. Wishing Clark's heroics hadn't rubbed off on her quite so much; Chloe bit her bottom lip and tugged the wheel over to steer towards The Talon.

The little VW obeyed its master without question, and bounced lithely off a curb as she took the shortest routes possible to her friend- even if that meant driving on parts of the sidewalk_. I wonder where Adams is tonight? _

Chloe took her eyes from the road to glance in her rear view mirror. From what she could see the fog was pursuing her at an alarming speed. The more gas she applied, the faster it appeared to give chase. She yanked the steering wheel hard left to head on to Smallville's main street, but didn't quite complete the move in one piece.

Chloe's wasn't the only car heading that way, and it appeared neither driver had been watching what they were doing. The Beetle slammed hard into the other vehicle with a resounding crunch, and Chloe was propelled forward with the momentum. Only her safety belt saved her from going headfirst through the windscreen, but she found her body was showered with a myriad of glass fragments anyway.

"Way to go, Sullivan. You escape the smog of doom and end up in an auto wreck!" Chloe groaned as she brushed slivers of windscreen from her chest and tried to push open her door.

The metal screeched, but refused to budge. Chloe pushed again, this time with every bit of strength she had left. Still the door remained closed. She checked in her mirror again with a gasp of sudden realization.

The fog was now floating onto Main Street just a short distance away. _Maybe I can climb out of the hole in the windscreen?_ Chloe began to shake as shock and terror took a hold. _Even if I can clamber out, I can't outrun it on foot…_

Lana slipped a piece of popcorn into her mouth and absentmindedly stared at the TV screen. The site of Brad Pitt and Orlando Bloom chasing around in 'Troy' should have kept her amused, but somehow it wasn't even coming close. Every few seconds, she just couldn't help stealing a guarded glance at the segment of wood that still lay covered up on the table.

Since her friend Stacey had arrived, there had been no more spontaneous combustions, but the fragment still made Lana feel on edge. As soon as she had brought it into the apartment, it had somehow seemed colder and even Stacey had commented on how chilly it was until they had eventually stoked up the fire.

"I sure wish I was in that tent right now," Stacey giggled and watched 'Achilles' on screen, oblivious to Lana's mood. "Want some more popcorn?"

Lana shook her head and checked the wall clock. It was past midnight and they were missing Chloe's broadcast. _Still, I can't just switch off the movie. That would be rude. _

While Stacey remained glued to Brad's every move, Lana sauntered to get a drink. She didn't know why, but her throat was so dry it was almost like the time she had been in a fire. _Surely there wasn't enough smoke from the wood to cause it?_ She dared to peek over to the table, but this time when her eyes met the cloth covering the timber she had a surprise.

The material had somehow blackened as if it had been burned and then been extinguished.

Lana began to shake, and opened her mouth to tell Stacey maybe the movie marathon would have to wait, but from down below there was a strange rapping sound that cut her short. "Did you hear that?" her lip quivered as she scurried over to the doorway.

"Hear what?" Stacey at last took her eyes from Troy and cocked a brow in frustration towards her friend. "It's probably some drunk out on the street. Come on, you're missing the best parts!"

Lana shook her head and decided it was time to remove the distraction. She hurried over to the TV and quickly clicked the off button before Stacey could protest. "Now, listen!"

Downstairs, someone, or something was definitely knocking on one of the doors. The hollow resounding thump came regularly and without pause. It seemed to echo through the old theater's very bowels, making the two girls come out in Goosebumps.

"So…some creep thinks the Talon should still be open, maybe?" Stacey shrugged and offered up her suggestion. "Leave it. They'll get tired of waiting and go."

Lana shook her head and her face grew determined. If it was a drunk outside she would deal with it, and if not…_What else could it be?_ "I'm going down to check it out," she answered, heading for the door.

Stacey looked longingly at the TV, and then sighed before joining Lana on the stairs. The pair jogged down the steps and into the darkened Talon together, neither one speaking over the top of the spooky sound.

"Someone is at the rear fire exit," Lana noted, gulping as she flicked on the light switch only to have the bulb dim and then brighten several times in succession.

Stacey's voice wavered. "What…what are you going to do?"

Lana stared at the rear of the Talon where the noise still came from. She could try calling the police, but somehow she already knew the line would be dead. The other option was to head for the two front doors and hope their visitor didn't have buddies. "I'm going to find something to defend us with if this gets nasty," Lana eventually conceded, and then ducked behind the main counter to search.

"Why don't you just go get lost!" Stacey somehow found the courage to edge nearer the fire exit and shout at whoever was making the noise. "You're not scaring anyone!" Abruptly, the thudding ceased and the cheerleader nodded triumphantly. "I knew it. It was probably some jock out to get a laugh out of us!"

Lana bobbed her head up from where she was searching to see her friend heading straight for the emergency exit. Filled with newfound courage, Stacey was about to open the door to give their tormentor just another piece of her mind if he was still around. "Stacey, no!"

Lana forgot her mission to find a weapon, and darted towards the fire door with a burst of speed almost worthy of Clark. She barrelled into her friend at the last possible moment, and somehow as they fell forward the bar to open the exit was still pushed forward.

The door jarred open ever-so slightly and a thick plume of slate grey fog billowed inwards through the crack. Both girls gaped and then scrambled to get to their feet as more of the mist gushed towards them.

Instinctively, Lana grabbed at the door lever and slammed it closed, but still a trickle of the haze seeped beneath its bottom edge to merge with the vapor that had already entered.

As they watched, the vapour began to slowly take form in front of them. A body, then arms, and eventually a misshapen, blackened head emerged. Stacey screamed, but couldn't take her eyes from the presence.

Lana opened her mouth, and then closed it again as somehow; somehow she knew just who she was staring at. The being created by the fog was a woman in a long, flowing, charred dress. "Elizabeth Dane…" Lana mouthed silently.

The smoky form's head appeared to cock slightly at its name, and then its eyes emitted a vicious, hateful red glow. It seemed to stare at the two girls, perhaps pondering which one to take to the dark place first. Then, as Stacey screamed again, the mini-fog dissipated and rematerialized behind them. Now, the long-dead Elizabeth Dane stood between Lana and Stacey's only means of escape, and she had no intention of leaving without blood.

Chloe tried to get a grip as she realized what was happening, but her muscles somehow refused to budge no matter how hard she wanted them to. The ultimate Wall of Weird case was going to take her down with it. _I'll be tomorrow's headline… _

"Chloe!"

The panicked voice came from outside and no sooner had Chloe heard the words than her little car's roof was being torn back. She looked up, startled to see Clark staring at her intently with the remnants of her soft-top in his hands. She expected him to ask if she was okay, but he didn't. He simply continued to almost squint at her for about half a second and then leaned into the car to virtually pluck her out.

_He just scoped me out for broken bones,_ Chloe observed as his left arm scooped her out and held her tight into his chest. _Even with all his gifts he can't get us both out of this one though. _

"Oh my God, is she okay?" Lois' voice had increased an octave as she leaned over the truck's steering wheel to check out her cousin being rescued.

Clark nodded as he hastily carried Chloe back to the cab. "She's just a little shaken…"

Chloe looked up as he placed her inside, and it was then she finally realized she had smashed straight into the side of the Kents' pickup. It was either extreme luck, or fate just didn't want her dead yet. "I'm okay," she managed to mutter. "I just think Lois could do with some driving lessons…"

Clark grinned as Lois was dealt some of Chloe's sarcasm, but quickly dodged back outside the truck. "Lois, keep the engine running. I have to try and clear some debris from Chloe's car before we can move."

The statement was an out and out lie and Chloe knew it. Clark didn't need to clear debris; he needed to clear her whole car. The little VW's hood had squished right under the backend of the truck on impact and wasn't going anywhere unless brute force was used. _Thankfully, Clark has plenty of that. _

Lois edged forward in her seat to check the side mirror. "The way you hit us I didn't think we'd be going anywhere…"

Chloe immediately sat forward to impair her cousin's view. "It wasn't that bad," she lied easily. "I'm more concerned with what's behind us!" She jerked a thumb and Lois reflexively checked her rear view mirror.

The fog was almost upon them now. It seemed to roll across the empty street like a thick blanket of macabre gloom, eating up the sidewalk with its deadly mass. There was no one else around, and Chloe hoped that meant at least some of the townspeople had taken her broadcast seriously.

Outside, Clark checked to make sure the two girls weren't looking his way, and with one wrench, pulled the mangled Beetle from its position under the truck's chassis. The collision had caused some minor damage, but after scanning with his x-ray vision he soon determined it was drivable- for now at least. Chloe's car was another matter. It would be taking a one way trip to the breakers yard as soon as they got out of their current situation.

"Clark, hurry back there will you! Have you seen how close that damn fog is?" Lois was peering through the glass in the back of the truck's cab and her wild-eyed gaze spoke volumes even before he spun around.

When he did, he felt his heart jump into his throat. The light mist that preceded the main bulk of the miasma was virtually tumbling over his boots. "Go!" Clark yelled for Lois to hit the gas while he was still mid-stride back to the cab.

Lois waited until his fingers grasped the door and then rammed her foot down hard on the accelerator. The truck lurched forward just as Clark hauled his frame inside the cab, and then it swerved wildly towards the Talon as its driver struggled to keep control.

Clark tugged at the door behind him, trying to yank it closed, but somehow the metal wouldn't yield to his strength.

"Clark!" Chloe screamed as the door eventually did swing their way, but with a little something extra attached.

Hanging from the door with a toothless, somewhat melted grin was the burned effigy of a 19th century farmer. Even though the fog-created illusion was charred, his hat and attire was still easily recognizable- as was his anger.

Clark pushed Chloe hard over to her cousin and kicked out at the figure with his boot heel, directing all his super strength at the mystery being.

The boot slid effortlessly through the apparition's chest and exited the other side without making contact with anything save the door. The hinges groaned and screeched at the pressure Clark had forced upon them, and with a well-timed pop the pins holding the door onto its hinges snapped.

The Dodge's passenger door and its ungodly commuter dropped to the nearby sidewalk, sending up a shower of sparks as it grated on the concrete. It dragged for a moment and then sheered completely off as it hit an old style fire hydrant. Water spiralled into the air but Lois didn't stop driving. She glanced once behind her at the still pursuing mist, and then to Clark.

"Way to go, Smallville! Now I know why you played football." She inhaled, catching her breathe, and noticed Chloe shoot Clark a strange look. Now was neither the time nor place to ask what it was for, however. She looked instead at the truck's dashboard and winced. "Guys, we better hurry and get to the church. I think we started losing gas…"

Clark nodded. He couldn't tell the girls how he knew, but he had suspected this might happen. When Chloe's car had hit them it had made a deep groove in the gas tank that with a little jarring would probably split- and obviously had. "We have to get to Lana first! She's on their list!"

"Clark, we don't even know if she's home. We can't waste valuable time riding around while we're losing fuel. You saw those things back there!" Lois was watching the gauge as she drove. _I swear I can see the needle dropping second by second…_

Chloe bit her lip. She knew Clark would never leave anyone, especially Lana. "He's right. We have to go check."

Lois muttered something inaudible and slightly profane under her breath but still steered the pick up towards the Talon. She knew it would be a close thing to get back to the church now, but in all honesty, she wouldn't leave anyone behind if she knew they truly needed help either.

Clark took a peek behind and then couldn't resist a small smirk. Although Lois didn't know it, her whispering was perfectly clear to his highly perceptive ears and he's heard every word she'd said. It would be something to chide her over some time if only it wouldn't reveal his abilities

Lois scowled at his expression. _What is wrong with this guy? A bunch of spooks hell bent on blood, murder and mayhem are in hot pursuit of us and he sits grinning out the window!_ She shook her head, but couldn't help find something about that expression of his oh-so endearing. _Whoa, time out, Lane. The next thing you know you'll be liking the guy! _

Lois spotted the Talon's huge sign and the flags outside and concentrated on what they had to do next. The fog was still terrifyingly close behind, and now there was something else. Chloe had seen it too.

"Clark…" The reporter's voice waned. "The fog is…"

Clark nodded as he watched the vapor begin to close in on them from the sides as well as from behind. It began to rise high over the rooftops, and was probably already at the Talon's back door even though the main entrance was still free. "It's walling us in…"

_Tbc.._


	8. The Fog Part 8

**Sorry about the delay in updating, folks, but I've had a few personal problems ;) Thanks for reading & reviewing! **

Lois didn't reply to his comment, but hit the brakes a little too harshly as she finally screeched up to the Talon's front double doors. Clark hopped out of the hole left by the sheared off door before the truck's wheels had even stopped spinning. "Stay here and keep the engine running. I'll go check on Lana." He didn't tell the two girls, but he had already kicked into x-ray mode and was scanning the coffee shop.

When he spotted Lana and her friend cut off by some mist-constructed phantom, he almost couldn't stop himself from hitting superspeed.

"You better hurry, Smallville. This gas gauge is dropping awful fast!" Lois checked the dash again and was tempted to defy her ex-quarterback host. _What if those things in the fog are already in there? _She looked over to Chloe, who appeared to be having similar thoughts.

"We better wait here," Chloe suggested as she watched the two doors swing wide when Clark entered the Talon. "I think they'll be coming out in one big rush!" _Especially if Clark decides to go speedy on those spooks! _

Lois tapped at the steering wheel and bit her lip as thin tentacles of grey vapour began to creep in through the gaping doorframe. The main mass of malevolence wasn't far behind. "Well they just might come out to two corpses if they don't hurry!" She reached for the door handle, intent on joining Clark, but Chloe pulled her back with a hard tug.

""Stay!" The young reporter's bark reminded Lois so much of her father giving a command she froze and looked at her cousin in surprise. If Chloe was this adamant, maybe she should wait.

Clark stormed into the Talon and stopped just short of the misty silhouette enveloping the floor before him. He held up a hand and shouted, hoping to distract the thing from its two obvious targets. "They're not the ones you want! You've been lied to…"

The presence of Elizabeth Dane didn't turn. Instead, the thing that represented her head seemed to turn in on itself, so that her features disappeared and then reappeared where only seconds earlier the back of her skull had been. It was like the ghostly head had morphed its shape and was now staring at Clark with its evil red orbs.

Clark continued, unperturbed by its grotesque features. "Lana, Stacey…Lois is outside in the truck. Go…and don't wait for me!" He yelled the order while keeping his gaze fixed firmly on Dane. He spoke to the presence then, urging it to believe his words with his boyish innocence. "Lana's family didn't wrong you. She doesn't deserve to die this way anymore than you did. Stacey's family didn't even live in Smallville when you were murdered…"

Dane hissed, and for the first time since their ungodly appearance, one of the ghosts attempted to communicate with the living. Her mouth opened, but only a black void was visible. The sound was an echoing, tormented declaration of what was to come. "Six must die…"

Clark shook his head. "You're killing the wrong people." He pulled the journal from his pocket and held it towards the fog. "My relative documented the night you died. He was there, but played no part. He knew who the real conspirators were." While he spoke, Clark watched to see his deception was apparently working.

Lana and Stacey had grabbed one another's hands and were stealthily edging past the ebbing haze. Once they reached the main entrance, Clark felt his pounding heart rate slow just a little.

"You are a Kent. Six must die…" Dane or the fog that gave the illusion of her presence began to move forward.

Clark didn't need to guess it wasn't to discuss what he was trying to explain. "Malone lied to you!" he pushed on, hoping his stalling was giving Lois time to get away. _Why can't I hear the truck leaving? _He focused his ears out onto Main Street while still hoping to appease the angry spirit with his words. _They're still out there!_ Lois, Lana and Chloe had all agreed not to leave without him. Only Stacey was protesting and losing the argument.

"Six must die!" This time, Dane's statement was accompanied by an arm forming from the fog to her left. In the grizzled hand, was the now familiar 'sickle of death.' The blade lashed out in a hacking motion as if a human arm had wielded it, and even Clark was pushed to avoid its deathly edge.

"Whoa!" he dodged sideways but not fast enough. As he watched in slow motion, the sickle slammed down on his forearm as he held it up defensively- and then passed clean through his flesh without doing any damage.

Clark gaped and couldn't help scanning his own arm in amazement. Either his Kryptonian heritage had saved him, or some other force was at work.

The spirit of Elizabeth Dane appeared equally amazed, and angered by the revelation. She struck out again, but this time Clark retaliated by shooting a burst of heat vision at the offending sickle. The metal should have melted but it didn't. The two rays of energy that burst from his eyes simply shot across the Talon as if the sickle wasn't in the room.

He stopped, quickly realizing all he was doing was potentially causing a fire hazard to the building. _I can't fight this thing with my gifts!_ Knowing he had no way to stop the creature even though it couldn't hurt him, Clark made a dash for the exit. The fog followed, but it didn't hurry. In here, its presence was insignificant. Outside, it would soon join up with its main body, and the souls of more deceased brethren.

About halfway towards the two double doors, a girl's scream made Clark want to shut off his hyper-sensitive ears. The yelp was so agonized he almost put his palms over the side of his head, but instead he continued running. Someone in the truck was being hurt, and he had to try and save them. What was worse, he knew who had made the gut-churning cry and it wasn't likely to be because she was a coward in the face of a few ghosts. _That was Lois…_

The glass in the doors almost shattered as Clark supersped through them to get to the truck. He was moving so fast he didn't even need to scan ahead to check on what was going on, because he was there in an instant.

The scene outside was just as the teenager had expected. The family pickup had been enveloped by the deadly mist, and at the driver's door one of the demonic spirits from Smallville's past was attacking Lois.

Clark cringed as he realized why she had screamed. The blackened spectre had rammed an arm through the side window, and had impaled Lois' forearm to the dashboard with what looked like a meat hook. She was squirming to pull free, even though she must have been in agony. _How do I stop it? I can't touch them! _In the second he took to deliberate, another form began to emerge from the fog in front of the truck's hood. For now, it had no real essence to do damage, but should he wait any longer, the phantom would be fully formed and ready to kill.

"Hit the gas!" Clark shrieked his order in the hopes Lana or Chloe would floor the accelerator. Lois was still too busy with her attacker to do much, and Stacey had climbed in the back and was now hiding under a blanket.

Instead, Chloe began to try and climb over to punch the relentless ghost assaulting her cousin.

Clark winced at her mistake and dived through the hole where the passenger door should be. He landed flat on his stomach in the truck's foot well, but was still able to easily reach his intended target. Forcing down hard on Lois shoe, Clark rammed the gas pedal to the floor and hoped Chloe now had the good sense to steer.

Lana yelped in surprise as the vehicle rushed forward, but dragged Chloe back slightly until the reporter stopped punching at thin air and grabbed the wheel. Again, the truck lurched as it hit a curb, but after a few heart-pounding seconds they were heading out of town.

"I hate to tell you this but we still have company!" Lois grimaced as she held onto her forearm. It was still pinned to the dash just left of the steering wheel and she couldn't budge it.

Chloe looked to the side window, and then realized her cousin was nodding towards the hood with a wince of pain. She glanced up, already expecting company. "Clark…"

Clark let go of the accelerator and tried desperately to scramble from his stomach back into a sitting position. It was awkward with Lana's and Chloe's legs in the way, and his own legs still dangling outside the truck, but in seconds he was up and staring into the face of yet another corpse.

The spirit he had seen forming earlier was now fully fashioned from the swirling fog. It held on to the hood somehow with an ethereal grip of iron, and a toothless decaying grin. Clark shook his head it true panic. "I don't know how to fight them! My hands go straight through!"

"Yeah, well I can sure as hell feel them!" Lois pressed hard on her bleeding arm. "We better get rid of that guy before he gets spear happy with someone else."

"How?" Clark watched in despair as the thing seemed to weigh them up. Its head cocked mockingly at them, and it bounced up and down effortlessly on the hood with the truck's every movement. "Can't you knock it off?" he finally asked Chloe, who still had the job of steering.

Chloe gulped and stared at the nearest shop wall. She was terrified to try and ram the thing off for fear it would damage the truck's gas tank further. And then there was the risk of sparks from the friction igniting the already leaking fuel. "We could go up in a ball of flames!" she shook her head. "Besides, can we actually knock something off made of mist?"

For one of the few times in his life, Clark was powerless. Lana clung to his arm in fear, but didn't speak as they all watched the ghostly presence begin to climb towards them. Their speed was taking them out of the main fog bank, but even in its thinner form the ghost could survive enough to kill.

It reached the windscreen in seconds, and punched a hole in the safety glass with one rotting stump of a hand. Stacey screamed, even though she wasn't in the truck's cab, and then retreated beneath her blanket on the flat bed. Had she seen what came next, she would probably have fainted.

The ghost began to dematerialise and channel its smoky form through the hole it had created. Once inside the truck, its presence started to reform to do more harm.

Clark lashed out in a desperate attempt to stop the evil creature reappearing, but as before his fist simply passed through the grey miasma. His brow furrowed as he tried to concentrate on a way to dissuade the thing. "These haven't harmed you. Let them go!" he pulled out the diary from his pocket and offered it up. "Read the truth."

The ghost ignored his pleas and lashed out with its charred hand, hoping to pin the teen by the throat. Its efforts were as thwarted as Clark's had been moments earlier.

Lana, on the other hand had more luck.

The ex-cheerleader grabbed at the spectre's period coat and was shocked when she was actually able to touch something like material. Her eyes widened but she didn't let go when the creature spun around. Instead, she indicated to Clark that she could make physical contact with the thing.

Clark's eyes brightened as he realized they suddenly had a chance. Ignoring all else, he kicked at the hole in the windscreen with his left boot. The already weakened glass gave way to his immense strength, and the remaining windscreen tumbled outwards in almost one piece.

As the glass fell by the roadside, Lana yanked back on the ghost's coat and as he was pushed towards the dash. She kicked out then, just as Lex had taught her, and the spectre found himself propelled over the hood and under the truck's churning wheels. The action couldn't hurt his long dead form, but he was left long behind as the Dodge roared onto the only fog-free road in Smallville.

"Nice kick," Lois offered as she smiled at Lana. "Now can you just tell me why you can touch those things and Clark can't?"

Clark felt something begin to churn in his stomach and tried to think fast. "Maybe it's because those things think Lana is a direct descendant of one of the people who wronged them? I'm adopted, remember," he added hastily.

Lois wasn't buying it. "So why did I have the pleasure of getting skewered?"

"Wrong place, wrong time maybe?" Chloe squirmed as she leaned over to continue steering. "Guys, I hate to mention this, but we're about out of gas…"

Clark could see the gauge needle was at the bottom of the area marked in red. Just to make sure, he turned around and scanned through the truck and into the tank. It was empty.

"Great! We outrun the fog, only to have it catch up and those guys play stab the student again!" Lois was obviously not amused. "How far are we away from the church?"

Clark calculated the distance in his mind in an instant. "Too far," he admitted. "We can't outrun the fog on foot." _And I can't carry everyone at once at superspeed! _

As they talked, the engine began to cough and splutter. The last dregs of fuel were almost gone, and they were out of options.

Lois cringed as she sensed the accelerator fail her requests for more speed. Eventually, she took her foot from the pedal and let the truck come to a stop. "It's over, Guys. You better start making a run for it. I'll catch up once I get free…" She began half-heartedly tugging at the thing that held her arm to the dash again.

Stacey hopped from the back first and looked in the direction of the church. It was still so far away it wasn't visible from their position. She shook her head, and ignoring Lois' plight, began to run.

Clark shook his head at her selfish attitude, and then rushed to pull open the driver's door. Lois might not have the strength to remove the hook, but it shouldn't be a problem to him. He looked at the rusty metal that had pierced her flesh, and abruptly felt sorry for the girl who enjoyed taunting him.

"Well don't just stand there, Smallville!" Lois pushed at the door with her good hand to help Clark gain access.

He smiled reassuringly, and then with one quick jerk pulled out the hook, hoping not to hurt Lois too much. To her credit, she didn't cry out, but simply slumped forward slightly until Chloe helped her sit back.

Clark tried to examine the weapon he had retrieved, but as he scrutinized the hook it dematerialized in his palm, dissipating into the air like the wraith it had stemmed from. _How can fog become solid?_ He didn't dwell on the thought, but instead tore off a piece of his shirt sleeve and wrapped it around Lois' bleeding arm. "Can you walk," he asked, genuinely concerned.

"Lois grinned through gritted teeth. "Still trying to get your hands on my butt, huh, Smallville?"

Clark couldn't help but smile back as he helped her from the cab. "Hey, you were the one who refused my offer of a dance that night…the least you can do is let me carry you now."

"It's okay, I can walk." Lois looked at the other two girls and asked a little shakily, "So are we going to try and catch Stacey up, or what?"

Lana turned around to glance at the rapidly approaching fog. It was far too close now to escape from, no matter how fast they ran, or how quick witted Lois managed to be. Humor couldn't save them now. Nothing could. "We can try," she shook her head and launched into a quick jog.

Chloe and Clark followed, keeping Lois in the middle as they ran.

"You know," Lois panted, "I should have taken you up on that offer of a dance, Smallville." She waited for Clark to look at her questioningly before answering, "After tonight, I'll never have that chance again…none of us will…"

_TBC..._


	9. The Fog Part 9

Lex rounded the corner and took the exit from Hickory Lane that led up to the old church. Behind his Hummer and on the adjoining road to the left, the thick, swirling fog was already gathering pace.

Lex gulped and pushed the military designed vehicle just that little bit faster.

Earlier in the evening, he had tuned into Chloe's radio show, unsure what to expect from the Smallville High reporter. He had been worried the blonde would bring up Luthorcorp's past transgressions to haunt him, but what he had heard had been a haunting of a very different nature.

Most people wouldn't have believed Chloe's pleading screams as she howled into the microphone, but Lex had. Here, in Smallville, anything was possible thanks to the plethora of green rocks scattering the countryside. Where those meteor rocks responsible for tonight's mayhem? Lex didn't know. What the millionaire was sure of, however, was the fact that he needed to get to the old church, and fast. Chloe had made it quite clear, and he wasn't going to doubt her with a mile wide fog on his tail.

Lex glanced in his mirror, but this time not to watch how close the miasma was. Instead, he let his gaze fall on the Hummer's rear seat and to his passengers. As soon as he had exited the mansion, he had thought of the Kents and Clark. When he had hastily called around, however, Clark and his new sidekick Lois had been missing. The Kents had been trying to get Martha's car to start out in the driveway, but to no avail so he had offered them a ride.

Now, Jonathan and Martha Kent sat huddled together in the middle of his rear seat. Jonathan had an arm tightly clasped around his wife's shoulder, and kept stealing a look outside every few seconds.

"I'm sure Clark is safely at the church by now, Mr. Kent," Lex offered. "Chloe will have made sure of that." In truth, Lex didn't know if Chloe had even made good her escape from the radio station. The Kents had heard the same harried pleas as he had, and then silence.

"Chloe might be a safe bet, but Clark was with Lois. She can be…" Martha let her words trail. She knew Lois was a good person, but sometimes she didn't think first.

"Headstrong?" Lex guessed. "Or daring, even?"

Jonathan shook his head. "Lois might be a lot of things, but I'm sure she'll do the right thing, just like Clark will." A vision of Lana Lang entered the farmer's head but he tried to push it aside. _Clark will try to check on Lana, I know he will, and what if this thing is meteor related? _

"Lex!" Martha cried out Lex's name as he took his eyes from the road for a second to look their way. "Watch out!"

The millionaire hit the brakes before he'd even turned back around. When he saw the reason for Martha's shrill scream, he let out a low breath through his teeth. Up ahead, four teenagers were running for their lives from the fog as it ebbed from yet another side road.

As the Hummer screeched to a halt, Clark, Chloe, Lana and Lois all stopped running and looked behind. Clark recognized the vehicle even before Lex had chance to get out.

"It's Lex! Come on!" Risking running through a thin veil of the vapour to reach the Hummer, Clark scooped up the waning Lois in his arms and made a line for the purring 4x4 before anyone could argue.

Lana shot Chloe a strange glance and then followed the towering teen. Chloe brought up the rear with a tiny smirk on her face. She had long since given up hope of winning Clark's heart, but to see Lana's expression as he had carried Lois had been priceless. _Heck, maybe my favourite farmboy is finally seeing some sense! _

As Clark reached the Hummer, Jonathan swung open the rear door and helped his son guide Lois onto the seat. She looked a little pale, but her sassy expression was still intact. The farmer guessed she was a little shaken, but she'd be okay once they got her someplace warm. He looked up to Clark as the other girls arrived, but there was no time for explanations. Instead, both men shuffled along the seat to make room for Chloe and Lana.

Before they had the rear door closed, Lex hit the gas again and headed straight for the church a few miles down the lane. "We thought you'd already be at the church," he suggested, this time keeping his eyes on the road and the encroaching fog.

Clark shook his head and wrapped his jacket around the still shivering Lois. "We got held up by a bunch of angry spooks." He waited for the rebuttal he suspected would come, and was surprised when Lex nodded instead.

"Is it meteor related?" The millionaire seemed to direct his question towards Chloe. After all, she had been the one to try and alert the town.

Jonathan and Martha both glanced at one another at the suggestion, but remained silent. They too had no real clue what was happening. Except, that perhaps history had come back to haunt a town riddled with secrets.

"Actually," Chloe began. "This time I don't think this has anything to do with the infamous green rocks. I think we're dealing with a bona fide spookfest. Clark found a diary in the farm attic and it tells a pretty gruesome tale of murder in Smallville. And tonight is the anniversary of the main event." Chloe screwed up her face in confusion. "What I don't get is why you told me to direct people to the church. Don't tell me it's the old Holy ground cliché? Because I really don't think that will hold any ground with these ghosts, Clark."

Clark shook his head and paused a second while he watched his mom tend Lois' arm. Once Martha nodded that it wasn't bleeding anymore he replied, "Its not Holy ground that can save us, its meteor ground. The church took a hit all those years ago. When Lois and I visited father Malone earlier, the ghosts had already tried to get to him. He's the catalyst in all this, but for some reason the spirits of the dead can't pass the green rocks in the church yard…" _And I can't pass them either. _

"So, what do we do once we get there?" Lois took in a sharp breath at the stinging in her arm, then continued, "We can't just sit in the church and starve to death."

Jonathan thought about the first lines in the journal and looked to Clark. "Son, didn't the diary say something about between midnight and one?"

Clark appeared flustered for a moment. In all their haste, he had forgotten about the journal, and was suddenly afraid he had left it behind during his last ghostly encounter. Quickly, he patted his shirt pockets and was relieved when he felt the familiar shape of the book.

He teased it out and gently opened the yellowed pages again. Reading from them, he nodded. "Midnight till One belongs to the Dead." He checked his wristwatch. "Does that mean in twenty minutes we're safe?"

Jonathan didn't know, but at least ahead the ominous shape of the church was finally visible. It was as if the structure was waiting for them, and for the events that were to yet unfold within the bowels of the ancient fog.

For a few short seconds, everyone fell silent. Then, as the looming church grew in their field of view, so did a thin veil of mist. It had been there before when Lois and Clark had visited, and now it waited for its next victims.

"Wha …what's that?" Lana's voice quivered as she was the first to spot something dangling from an overhanging tree near the gate.

Lex was tempted to hit the brakes again. "It's a body…" As he said the words, the shape of a long dead farmer began to take form under the mangled cadaver. It waited for them patiently to grow closer.

Chloe shook her head. "Not just any body, though. It's Stacey." She tugged on the back of Lex's seat, pulling herself forward. "You better hit the gas, not the brakes, Lex. That thing has no intention of letting us through into sanctuary."

"Yeah, make some spook sushi before they do the same to us!" Lois scowled at her own words, and looked to the Kents for comfort. Somehow, the family gave her a kind of peace her father never had had time for. Even Clark in his own way was a reassuring force in a world gone wrong.

Right now, though, Clark had other things on his mind. If Lex rammed the ghost and drove the Hummer straight through the stone wall into the church yard, then he would surely collapse from the multitude of meteor rocks. _Not to mention, if dad is wrong about his midnight until one theory, everyone will be trapped!_

Lois saw his intentions first, and frowned as she realized how foolhardy he was being. "Hey, Smallville!"

Before she could say more, Clark pushed his way over to the side door and slammed it open until it almost sprained the hinges. At the same moment Clark dived from the lumbering vehicle, Lex rammed it through the wall and into safety.

The Hummer ploughed through several crumbling gravestones and eventually came to rest near the wooden church door.

Clark rolled over as he jumped and spun his body upwards and onto his feet, careful not to edge near the Kryptonite rocks as he made the move. He stole a glance as his parents and friends climbed from the crashed vehicle, and then turned back to Stacey's limp body and the creature below it.

Clark slowly walked forward, trying to move confidently even though he had no clue how he could placate the spirit before him. As he neared the thing, he realized he somehow knew the figure was Blake.

Blake remained motionless, even though from the church Lois and the others had begun to call desperately to Clark. His eyes glowed brightly, and he seemed to stare at the teen before him with a new kind of respect, even though his intentions were still to kill.

Clark paused a few steps from the charred creature and gulped. Could it understand anything but hate after all these years? He held out a hand, knowing he couldn't be harmed, but hoping to gain some kind of trust.

Still, the seemingly rotting cadaver of a ghost didn't move. Instead, beside him, another presence began to materialize. It was the woman again.

"Elizabeth Dane…" Clark murmured, becoming mesmerized by the new apparition's appearance. This time, the manifestation of Dane was different –she was perfectly formed. No burns marred her skin, and her long, flowing dress blew lightly in the night breeze. Only the swirls of mist that replaced her feet gave always that this was an illusion of the dead.

"Six must die…" Dane's voice was soft and yet commanding. She glanced to Blake at her side, and he nodded his agreement. "Those whose forefathers transgressed must pay…"

Clark shuddered. "None of the people here should pay. They did nothing. Not even my own relative was involved." For the last time, Clark produced Nathaniel Kent's journal and offered it up. "Take this, and see the truth. I know you were wronged, but two wrongs never make a right. You can't kill for the sake of killing. Not if you were ever good, God-fearing people."

Blake's bony hand reached out, and his scrawny fingertips caressed the edge of the book in Clark's palm. As corporeal and non-corporeal met, the journal began to glow with a bright yellow light that engulfed both men.

Clark felt a surge of energy run through his frame like a lightning bolt, and his boots suddenly seemed glued to the spot where he was standing. His muscles shook with the force coursing through them, and he was somehow compelled to keep his eyes on the book in his quivering hand, even though he wanted to look away.

"It is you who must see the truth…" Blake's voice was nothing like that of the watching Elizabeth Dane's. It was deep and guttural- dead.

As he spoke, the journal glowed with a fiercer intensity, and suddenly Clark was no longer looking down upon an aged book. He was looking down upon a church filled with people- men, women and children, laughing and joking as they congregated for their regular town meeting.

Clark tried to pull away from the image, but the vision from the past had imprisoned him in its era. Here he would stay until the ghastly deed had at last been witnessed by an outsider. "I know what happened," he pleaded, but Blake was stoic in his resolve.

The inside of the church became even larger, and abruptly Clark was no longer looking down upon it, he was inside like some invisible fly on the wall…

As the people of latter day Smallville began to quieten down, Clark noticed two figures had made their way to the forefront of the crowd. Both were impeccably dressed for their era, and the teen recognized them as Dane and Blake.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Elizabeth and I have asked you all here this evening to bring you some sad news," Blake addressed the gathering while stealing a glance at the woman at his side. "I'm afraid I have decided to sell my land to Holbrook at the generous rate he has offered. Rather than see bloodshed in Smallville, I would suggest you do the same…" Despite his words, it was obvious Blake was struggling with the choice he had made.

Men and women in the crowd began to murmur. Some felt betrayed and began to shout out in despair.

"You brought us together all these months with your words of hope, only to let us down now? You're no better than Holbrook!"

More voices joined the irate farmer who had hollered until the church was awash with angry shouts. Eventually, Elizabeth Dane could take no more.

"People! This isn't a choice that has been taken lightly…" She took Blake's hand, feeling his sorrow. "My good friend and neighbour has been diagnosed with a terrible sickness for which there is no cure. Would you wish him to spend his last days fighting over land he has no need for?"

The leering stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and the crowd gathered in the church abruptly became sombre. Blake's illness had brought home to them how feeble their own tenuous grip on the Kansas land was. After five minutes silence, the murmuring began again.

This time, the people were talking amongst themselves, and Dane was the only voice who could break them up. "My friends, it would make sense if everyone voted on what we should do now. I will be selling my land, and perhaps it would be better if we all did. I fear Holbrook will go to illegal lengths to take what is not rightfully his…"

Heads bobbed in agreement, and as Clark watched the gathering in the church swiftly voted to give up their fight for the small town and its land. Without Blake and Dane they had no backbone.

Clark's skin suddenly became cold as he realized what this all meant. "They're going to die for nothing! Holbrook and Malone burn the church down little knowing the people had already voted to give up the fight!" he backed up, but the past was not about to release its hold on him yet- not until the final act of terror had been completed.

Clark's superior auditory skills alerted him to a sound and he honed in. it was the soft tapping of a hammer and nail on wood, over and over again. His head jerked to the source, and as he scanned through the wooden walls he cringed at what he saw.

Malone and one of Holbrook's henchmen were hammering the church doors closed. There would be no escape from the fire they would soon set.

The teen wanted to shout out and warn the people around him, but he knew it was futile. They couldn't even see him, let alone take heed of any warning he might try to give.

Then came the smell of burning. It was faint at first, as Malone lit the torch and tossed it on to the dry timbers of the house of God. Soon though, as the wood began to smoulder it became more intense.

The crowds began to notice too, and as people started to panic a stampede for the doors erupted. _If only_ _I could smash through the wood and end this! It would be so easy with my strength! _But in this century, Clark Kent did not exist.

Screams filled the church, followed by a thick, grey blanket of smoke. Men, women and children began to cough and gag as the fumes and heat burned at their throats, and finally came the flames.

Clark closed his eyes as the roof beams started to crumble and fall in on those who had not already asphyxiated. He could even sense the intense heat on his skin and smell the aroma of burning human flesh, but he refused to open his eyes back to the imagery. "You died for nothing…nothing…women and children murdered when you had already agreed to give up what Holbrook wanted…"

Abruptly, the attack on his senses ceased and Clark dared to let his eyelids open once more. Still, the diary shook in his hand, held their by the glowing power of the dead.

"Six MUST die!" Blake reiterated his earlier command.

"No one here can die. I won't allow it." Clark fought the effects from the journal to look the dead man straight in the face. "They don't deserve it! What have these people ever done to you? What had Stacey done to you?" he was angry now.

"Malone…" Blake intoned. "Malone sent us to them…"

"No more deaths!" Clark screamed out with a yell so intense the link between his hand and the book was finally severed, and he felt himself blown backwards as if he'd been hit by a speeding car.

The bond between living and dead broke in a golden flash of light, and Clark realized in dismay that he had been tossed so far he was now lying in the graveyard. There really was no escape now from the spectres, but perhaps that was a good thing.

Already, his veins had begun to burn with the green rocks scattered around him. His energy waned in seconds as the alien radiation took a hold on his body. With the pain came a thought, and despite the agony he felt reassured. _I can still save my parents and everyone… _

Somehow, Clark managed to pull his failing body up to sit on his elbows. He shook with the effort, but he needed to face Blake and Dane one last time. "You want another death…take me…"

Dane and Blake floated forward within the miasma that created them until they reached the edge of where the meteor rocks began. Neither spoke, but Clark could have sworn he sensed a strange look in Dane's eyes. Was it compassion? Understanding of his sacrifice perhaps?

"You can't pass into the graveyard. You can't even touch me, but you don't have to," he continued. "If you want another death all you need do is watch and wait…" Clark slumped down then from his elbows until he was curled in a foetal position on the ground, shaking. The shadow of Stacey's still dangling body hung over him like a mark of death. "Take me and let the cycle be complete. No one else must die…" He rasped out the last sentence and was sure he saw Dane hold out a palm to him in anguish_. Is she saying it shouldn't be this way? Or is she beckoning me to join her in some ghostly netherworld? _Clark tried to hold onto consciousness until he had the answer, but as always the Kryptonite won the battle, and he slipped away into some dark, more comfortable place.

Hours or minutes could have passed, Clark had no clue, but sometime later he began to stir. _Am I dead?_ There was no pain from meteor rock exposure, just the dull dizziness and disorientation it sometimes momentarily left behind.

He coughed as it felt like the bony finger of Dane was prodding him in the chest. _Dare I open my eyes? _

Clark groaned and the probing began again in earnest, followed by a concerned voice. "Clark, are you hurt? Say something to me dammit, Smallville!" More desperate voices followed, all wanting to know if he was alive.

Clark was tempted to grin. Three pretty girls all huddled around him like this and he had to tell the truth. If they hadn't just been through a night of hell he would have been tempted to fake injury in exchange for a little tender loving care. He stopped dead in mid-thought and realized what he was thinking. _Tender loving care from Lois? Wow, those spooks must have really fried my brain! _

"Clark, Sweetheart?" This time it was Martha pleading with him to wake, and he at last dragged his eyelids open and looked up at her. "Oh thank God, Clark!"

Martha cradled his head in her lap until he finally pushed up into a sitting position and looked around. Now that his head was clearing from the kryptonite's effects he realized there were more questions than answers. For a start, the fog had somehow magically dissipated, and he was now lying well away from any of the evil green mini-boulders that could have killed him.

"What happened?" Clark looked to his dad first, knowing the others had no clue about his allergy to the meteors.

Jonathan nodded back towards the church. "We saw you thrown backwards after touching the journal with one of those spooks."

"And we thought you were…were dead." Lana whimpered slightly as she gazed up towards Stacey's very lifeless body.

"I could have died…" Clark turned his attention to where he had originally fallen and raised an eyebrow towards his dad. As far as he knew, only Jonathan and Martha realized the graveyard could have killed him. So, what had occurred while he had been unconscious?

Chloe filled in the gaps, or at least some of them. "When you fell backwards and the ghosts moved nearer we thought…we thought," she stammered and then carried on. "Well, anyway, your dad and Lois decided to play heroes and ran into the fog to get you, but someone beat them to it."

Clark's brow furrowed. The ghosts couldn't help him, so who? Lex perhaps?

"It was Father Malone," Jonathan informed his son. "We didn't see where he came from, but he appeared out of the mist with a bottle of whiskey still in one hand and dragged you clear of…" The father faltered, knowing Clark understood the priest had saved his life.

Finally, Clark nodded in understanding. Malone had been in the churchyard drowning his sorrows and had overheard Clark's selfless offer to die in the others place. Some inner part of Malone's conscious had at last been pricked enough to bring out the real holy man hiding within the alcoholic's guise. _He dragged me clear, but at what cost?_

Clark frantically looked around the yard. Now that the fog had vanished, it was a clear, moonlit night with no cloud. What had happened to Malone? "Didn't you see what happened next?"

Lois put her good hand on Clark's shoulder. "The fog seemed to just disappear, like it was being sucked inside some huge vacuum." She shuddered. "Malone went with it."

"He died for me." Clark looked down at his hands. The horrid sight of his veins protruding and pulsing green had gone, thanks to someone giving up their life for his.

Jonathan shook his head. "No, Son. He died for himself. He regained his dignity."

No one spoke for a moment. Then, as usual, Lois had to break the silence first. On this occasion though, no one minded. She leaned over and offered Clark a hand up even though she was still giddy herself. "Are you sure you're okay, Smallville? No extra holes there to match the one in my arm?" she smiled a little then, and Clark smiled back impishly.

Three pretty girls, all staring at him expectantly for an answer. _Maybe I could just feign a slight limp…_

Epilogue

Many of the townspeople never knew what had happened the night of the fog, and perhaps it was better that way. Some had looked from their windows and decided quite wisely not to leave the house. Others had been so engrossed in the TV shows they were watching that they had never heard the thundering wrapping on their screen doors. For Clark and his family, though, and those who had heard Chloe's broadcast, Smallville would never be quite the same.

The morning after the miasma vanished, Sheriff Adams discovered Father Malone's body out at the church. He had been decapitated by a sword. The murder weapon had been left at his side, and had since been dated via markings back to the American civil war. It was said by many locals that there could never be any suspects, because the dead had claimed their own.

Clark, Chloe and Lois knew the real truth. It hadn't taken long for Chloe to look back in Smallville's records once she knew what to look for. It appeared Blake had been a distinguished cavalry officer in his time, and had served under General Ulysses S Grant for several years. Grant had given him the sword for an act of bravery, and it was said he had been buried with it after his untimely death in an accidental fire.

"It was no accident…" Clark arose early and sat at the breakfast table mulling over the facts. He'd not been able to sleep since the night of the fog, and was pretty lucky his Kryptonian body didn't need as much rest as its human counterparts.

"You're up early again, Son." Jonathan breezed in from outside and poured out a cup of strong coffee. He pulled out a chair and sat down next to Clark with a sigh. "What's bothering you, Clark? You can't go back and change things. The past is set in stone."

Clark nodded and fumbled with his own half empty mug. "I just don't understand how people can do that to others. Kill, murder, lie all just to get what they want, or for simple revenge. The more I think about it, the more I realize how lucky I am to have such wonderful people around me as you and mom."

Jonathan smiled slightly and patted his son on the back. "Not to mention three lovely ladies who keep ringing here worried sick about a certain farmboy with a _limp_?" he exaggerated the last word to let his son know he was fully aware of the little subterfuge.

Clark's cheeks flushed with color and he abruptly wanted to creep back upstairs to bed. At his father's laughter, he cringed and offered, "Two lovely ladies, and one _Lois._"

Jonathan took a sip of his drink and became more serious again. "Son, I know you might find this hard to believe, but Lois thinks a lot more of you than you know. Out at the church, she was the first person to dive into that fog after you, despite already being hurt herself. And when we got to you lying there lifeless, you should have seen the look on her face!"

"I felt her prodding, trust me!" Clark grinned and shook his head, "but, Dad, we annoy one another…"

From the doorway Martha cleared her throat and let a small smile play across her features as both men turned to look at her. "Honey, maybe you two just enjoy hating one another too much?" she winked, teasing her suddenly horrified son. "They say that's how the best relationships start."

Clark jumped up from the table, and dived for the stairs back to his bedroom before Lois thought about re-acquiring it. She'd stayed with Lana for a few nights to keep her company, and Clark was beginning to like his old room back a little too much. "Ugh, no way, Mom!" _Lana once said that too…No…it can't be true! _He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. _Lois is growing on me… _

As their son ran for dear life back towards his room, Jonathan and Martha shared a quiet moment.

Jonathan slipped an arm around his wife's waist and pulled her close. "Do you really think those two could ever?" he asked with a playful frown.

Martha shrugged. "I don't know, Jonathan, but there is something between those two, and it's not hate…"

The farmer nodded knowingly and tugged his wife closer. "You mean something that might eventually turn out like this?" Before she could ask more, Jonathan pulled her into a long, passionate kiss.

Upstairs, Clark bounced onto his welcoming duvet and lay on his stomach. He couldn't sleep, and it wasn't Lois that was giving him insomnia. It was something far more worrying.

Blake and Dane had said that six must die, but even with Malone, Clark could only account for five deaths.

On some dark, lonely April night in the future, would the fog return to seek its last victim?

The End


End file.
